


Keep the Streets Empty for Me

by Little_Red92



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Underage Drinking, inspired by skins, very long one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Red92/pseuds/Little_Red92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is on the edge of madness, there is a war raging in his mind and monsters crawling out of the dark, hungry and ready to devour, voices whispering and taunting. He’s on the edge of madness and no one has noticed him falling apart at the seams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep the Streets Empty for Me

**Author's Note:**

> See end for more notes  
> OC’s featured in this story  
> Audrey Greyson: http://www.google.com.au/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=GiQrSOhrLtv23M&tbnid=i76dMoMTtQYhmM:&ved=0CAIQjBw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fm5.paperblog.com%2Fi%2F25%2F258754%2Fonce-upon-a-time-has-cast-sarah-bolger-as-sle-L-w53IXf.jpeg&ei=w8aJUdzZN9CMkgXE94G4Bg&bvm=bv.46226182,d.aGc&psig=AFQjCNG9OvX5JbwSvU0TpWIuRsk9f5Ey8g&ust=1368070045375273  
> Echo Queen: http://www.google.com.au/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=OrVhTaq9lYplzM&tbnid=-edWjJEjunaFPM:&ved=0CAIQjBw&url=http%3A%2F%2F25.media.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_lqb06jf2HN1qgekv6o1_500.png&ei=P8OJUb3oLYmIkQX99IHoCA&psig=AFQjCNHdT8MPb2BeKl2Msz9LMSV3cLzguA&ust=1368069204447219   
> Doctor Kahlan Adler: http://www.google.com.au/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=HMzQFYUP_C60-M&tbnid=AtJ9hOUl_BZnZM:&ved=0CAIQjBw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.hollywoodreporter.com%2Fsites%2Fdefault%2Ffiles%2Fimagecache%2Fthumbnail_large_300x401%2F2013%2F02%2Fbridget_regan.jpg&ei=CCaLUaWvIMeGkQWzooGgBw&bvm=bv.46226182,d.aGc&psig=AFQjCNEOxcyIKyoV4WiGApSRpNNXJM9QFA&ust=1368160068172191

It’s Sunday afternoon when the rain finally starts to clear. The ground is soaked through and through, branches have broken from trees and lay about the lawns, the wind still blows wildly, wind chimes can be heard from a few houses down. Day is bleeding into night; the Stiliniski’s front lawn is bathed in a golden glow that looks too cheerful for the darkness lurking with the house. Derek paces up and down the pathway; the yard resembles a swamp after the pouring rain.

Derek’s swears as Scott’s phone goes to voice mail, he’s been trying to get a hold of him all weekend, but all he ever gets is voicemail, no matter how many threatening texts he sends. Dialling a number he has gotten quite used to, he holds his breath and waits. The Sheriff is still out of reception and Derek is desperate now, he doesn’t know who else to call though, no one will bloody answer. He can’t trust anyone else with Stiles, not while the alphas are still out; there are too many enemies in plain sight. All he has left is the remains of his broken pack and he doesn’t trust Peter enough to help with this situation and Isaac is honestly not going to be of any help.

When Scott didn’t answer the phone on the first few rings Derek had panicked, mind playing out a hundred horrible images, it was stupid though, if Scott had been taken by the alphas someone would know. Someone would have come looking for him to ask for his help, apart from Stiles, he hasn’t seen anyone else in three days. He even hunted down Lydia, she was Stiles’s friend, well kind of, but she was smart and could have been helpful, she was apparently away with Allison on some spur of the moment trip to Los Angeles. Seriously, could these kids have worse timing? They were in the midst of a war and they thought they could go camping and not answer their phones and everything would be ok, that disasters would wait for their return.

When Derek saw them he was going to have a word with them, because right now he needed help, Stiles needed help. God, Stiles really, really fucking needed help. The kid was out of his mind, it was scaring Derek and he didn’t scare easily. This, whatever _this was,_ it was terrifying and he couldn’t find some supernatural cure for it, it wasn’t anything supernatural to begin with, Stiles was just… he was just broken.

The light had faded from the sky when Derek’s phone started ringing. He fumbled with the stupid thing before finally hitting the right button and bringing it to his ear; he didn’t wait to see who was calling or bother with hello. “Where the hell have you been? I have been calling you all weekend, Scott. Stiles is out of his freaking mind, I don’t know what to do, he won’t eat or get out of bed and I have to keep prying alcohol from his hands. Scott, I am really fucking worried… I think…” Derek took a deep breath; he’d watched Stiles so carefully all weekend, refused to leave even when Stiles screamed at him to get out, to get the hell out. “I’m worried that if I leave him alone he’s going to try and kill himself.”

There are a few moments of intense silence, Derek’s heart’s pounding in his chest, he needs Scott to say something, to just say it’s all going to be ok.

“Put my son on the phone.”

Derek sways; he actually feels his legs threatening to buckle underneath him as the sheriff’s voice knocks the wind out of him. He should have thought about this, that it might be the sheriff calling, not Scott, fuck. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go, he was going to do it calmly, not just yell out every little fear. He can’t take it back; he turns towards the house and heads inside on unsteady legs. When he gets inside he does fall over, the phone slipping from sweaty palms as every fear washes over him. Amongst the smell of soapy dish water, fresh laundry, milk half-gone bad and a sandwich take away wafting from Stiles' bedroom, is the distinctive smell of copper.

The smell of blood… a lot of blood.

**46 Hours Earlier**

They say it’s going to rain all weekend, a storm is blowing in and everyone should have emergency kits prepared just in case it’s worse than they have predicted. There has been a storm raging for months, not the kind with rain or howling wind that can rip away roofs and tear free trees. It’s the silent type; the one nobody sees coming. It’s not the weather losing control, destroying homes and lives; it’s the unseen storm of a broken and twisted mind. Silent and deadly, more so than any act of nature could ever be. The problem with having a storm inside your mind is that you don’t notice it, Stiles certainly doesn’t, which is funny since he really bloody should, but he is too tired to care.

There are so many other things whirling around his head that he doesn’t have time for anything like that, he really doesn’t have time. Rolling over, Stiles looks up, it’s almost impossible to see the blue painted ceiling, he has covered it in clippings of local stories, the werewolf ones to be exact, pages from supernatural books, photos of friends and of his father and snippets of poems. In the middle of it all is a picture of himself, from better times; he sits amongst all the chaos, the danger, the strong and able. He sits and waits, waits for the monsters in the dark to come for him, for the pain to all be over, he waits for death.

Because _He_ has promised He’ll be here soon, very soon. He’d whispered into his ear one night, not so long ago, that only so many can survive a war, the weak must give up their lives for the strong. Stiles was not strong, he was weak, he’d let the monsters get to him; he could see them in the shadows, clawing their way out of the sky, ready to feast. No one has noticed Stiles slipping away, everyone is too busy trying to kill the alpha’s that no one has noticed Stiles hasn’t been to school in a week that he has gone for days without food, slept almost twenty-four hours straight.

Even his father has been so hectic trying to wrap all the murders that have plagued this town, drenching its streets in blood, to notice Stiles didn’t get out of bed and barely ate. He’s father has been called away to some special police training this weekend, Stiles had told him to go, it was vital for his job and he’d be fine. A lot of the training took place in a small town a few hours from here so it was likely he wouldn’t have reception for a few days, but there was a special number he could call if he needed him in emergency.

Stiles crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it in the bin. It’s been five hours since his father left; he’s been lying on his bedroom floor for three of those hours, staring up at the ceiling, forcing away the whispering voices. He’s almost half way through a bottle of Jack Daniels, one he’d found hidden away in a cabinet a few hours ago, his Adderall is sitting on his desk, he hasn’t taken them in two weeks, he’d slowly been cutting them down, he likes his mind this way. A whirling mess of thoughts, each one something new and only staying for a while before flittering away into something else.

When they started to get dark, when the voices are too loud and the monster too close he reached for the bottle of Jack and took a swig, the burn chasing them away. He was moderately drunk at this point, it was ok though, everything had gotten too loud and he needed the warm buzz of the alcohol to quite everything down. A sudden rush of air had the buzz fading, Stiles jerked upright, heart pounding like a drum. There is a tall ominous silhouette in the darkness, a monster that has broken through the barrier.

Jumping to his feet he flies towards his bedroom door, rips it open and runs. His fatigued muscles don’t want to cooperate properly, they move stiffly as he descends the stairs, falling down the last few. Scrambling to his feet he lurches towards the front door, it’s far too late, his monsters has caught up with him. He is spun around, forced against the solid door by an unnatural force, all his thrashing and flailing around doesn’t do any good, this is it, they are finally here.

“Stiles calm down.”

“Derek” Stiles shouted, finally seeing the familiar face. “Make them go away, I don’t want to go, make them go away!”

“Make who go away, Stiles?” Derek slackened his hold on him, lowering his gaze so he can look into Stiles wild and frantic eyes. “No one’s here besides us, ok. It’s just us, you’re safe.”

“No” he shook his head, gripping tightly at Derek’s jacket; he needs him to know that they are so God damn close to taking him. “Not safe, not safe!”

Derek lets go of Stiles completely and takes a step back, a look of rage and disbelief crossing his features. “Are you on something? You don’t smell right.” Stiles threw his head back and laughed. Derek startled, he has never heard anyone laugh like this, especially not Stiles. It’s not right, it’s… it’s manic. “Where is your father? I think I should call him.”

Stiles stopped laughing, expression blank and eyes empty. “Out of town, you can’t call him, he won’t answer.”

“Well, I’ll call Scott then.” Derek retrieves his cell from his jacket pocket and in typical Scott fashion he doesn’t answer, “For fucks sake.”

“No one cares” Stiles sinks to the ground, falls over like a broken doll and stays there.

“Stiles, I’m sure they-”

“Don't fucking start with that, Derek! You know how long I stayed in bed this week? Five days. Five fucking days, and you know how many people called me to ask how I was, why I wasn't at school. Zero. Not even the _schoo_ l cares anymore. They’re probably just glad they don't have to deal with me anymore. No one cares, Derek, and don't try to tell me otherwise.”

Derek deflates, shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and looks around the room like it might hold some answer to Stiles sudden melt down. “Have you had dinner?”

“I haven’t eaten in two days” Stiles deadpans.

Derek holds back the growl of annoyance, can’t these kids look after themselves, for God’s sake they were nearly adults. “Fine, I will cook you dinner then you are going to snap out of this, ok?” Stiles didn’t answer; he was staring off in the distance with a faraway look in his eyes. Derek cursed one last time before stomping into the kitchen; as soon as Stiles had come down from whatever the hell he was on they were going to have a nice long chat about how drugs were bad. Something Stiles Stilinski should already know.

Derek cooks Stiles mac and cheese; he refused to get off the floor so they eat together in the front entrance. Stiles takes a few bites, puts the bowl down and slumps against Derek’s shoulder, the supernatural warmth coming off the alpha feels really good. Derek orders him to eat more, when he refuses he resorts to a threat when that fails he promises Stiles if he eats half his dinner he won’t tell his father about this. Stiles believes him, so he forces it down, only to throw it back up, all over his shirt and sweat pants.

Derek abandons his empty bowl then heaves Stiles to his feet; the kid already smelled bad when he got here now he is just ten times worse. He managed to get him up the stairs and into the bathroom, Stiles collapses onto the closed toilet seat and looks up at Derek with sad brown eyes. Derek is really considering taking Stiles to the hospital, but with the alpha’s in town it might not be safe, they have helpers everywhere and in this state Stiles couldn’t fight off a fly.

Derek resigns to staying the night, they’ll wait this out together and in the morning Stiles will be himself again and everything will be back to normal. For now the kid is useless, barely awake and covered in vomit and God knows what else, he smells bloody awful. With no other choice, the alpha turns on the shower, strips Stiles of his clothing than shoves him under the warm spray, staying close in case he decides the shower floor is a good place to lie down.

He tries not notice how thin Stiles has gotten, but it’s impossible not to. His shoulder blades seem to jut out like wings, his hip bones and ribs are visible beneath his skin which is paler then Derek ever remembers it being. When he wraps the towel around Stiles’s trembling body it feels like he might crush to dust. This is more serious than Derek had imagined, promise or no promise he is calling the sheriff in the morning and telling him he needs to get home right away.

Tonight Derek will stay, will wait for whatever Stiles took to wear off and in the morning they’ll figure this out.

**XxX**

The morning brings the promise of rain, Derek can smell it, sense it deep in his bones, as predicted there is going to be a storm. It’s eight-fifteen and the room is cloaked in darkness, patches of grey sky can be seen every time the blinds blow in the breeze that is steadily building into a gale. The alpha had spent the night on the floor, nothing but a sleeping bag between his back and the hard flooring, he stretches out the kinks, rubbing absently at a sore spot on his shoulder. Stiles is sound asleep, the steady beat of his heart is background music to this quiet morning, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement he makes.

Derek had tried to call Scott a thousand times last night, he even phoned Isaac, but he’d had no idea where he was and Isaac wasn’t going to be much use in this situation, whatever this situation was. He suspected drugs, but this was Stiles for Christ sake, he was too smart for drugs and his father was the sheriff, so who’d sell them to him. There was something wrong though, this wasn’t Stiles, he didn’t even really smell like himself, there was this scent of… well the best way to describe it would be to say he smelt of darkness.

Maybe all the stress had caused him to have a meltdown, Derek couldn’t blame the kid for having one; Derek had his own after the fire. Stiles was the kind of guy who took on everyone else’s problems, he put their needs in front of his own and the last few months had been rough. First with Peter, who turned Scott, after Stiles took him out into the woods then Lydia was attacked (and Derek knew how Stiles felt about her.) Then there were the Argents and Jackson being the Kanima and Stiles had seen a man get crushed to death while he was paralyzed, he’d also been helpless when Matt had attacked his father. There was also the whole Gerard Argent kidnapping thing, so yeah; Stiles did kind of deserve a breakdown.

Stiles was strong though, Derek had always admired him for that. He may have looked like the side-kick, but he was not one to mess with. He was the guy no one saw coming, he was almost like their secret weapon, brilliant and sharp minded, quick thinking with a side of witty charm. That was Stiles, not the strange frightened wide-eyed boy he’d seen last night. Rising to his feet, Derek lent over Stiles and gently prodded him awake, Stiles rolled over dramatically onto his back, staring up at Derek with glassy eyes.

“It’s time to get up” Derek pulled the covers off, tossing them in a heap at the end of his bed. “You need to snap out of this, ok? Everything’s going to be alright.”

“If you close your eyes, you see darkness. But if you keep them closed long enough, and concentrate hard, you’ll see light.” Stiles mused absentmindedly, staring up at the ceiling that Derek had noticed was covered in newspaper articles, strange quotes and photos.

“I never knew that” Derek heaved Stiles up. “Now drop the dark shit and come downstairs and I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Why are even still here?” Stiles shook off the alpha’s hands and rose to feet, unfocused eyes searching Derek’s face for answers. “You don’t even like me! I’m not part of your pack, so why are you fucking here? I don’t want you here, I don’t want anyone here.”

Derek stood his ground, a part of him wanted to leave, to let Stiles sort this shit out for himself, but a much louder part urged him to stay, his inner wolf knew that leaving Stiles could be disastrous. “I am trying to help you, Stiles. You’re not yourself and I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why?” Stiles threw his arms up in frustration, “you can’t possible care, nobody fucking cares!”

Stepping towards the teen, Derek grasped Stiles’s face gently between his palms, staring at him levelly. “I care, we _all_ care. Now take a breath and calm down.”

Stiles obeyed, shoulders sagging under the weight of the world. Tired eyes darted around the room, either too afraid or embarrassed to meet Derek’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok” letting go, he stepped back, casting a quick glance around the messy room. “Let’s get some fresh air before the storm hits, ok.”

Stiles nodded, folding his arms over his chest and shrinking into himself. “Yeah… ok.”

**XxX**

Stiles doesn’t feel anything, not the wind on his face or the cool leather beneath him, the music is just static amongst the sound of a thousand noises, just a temporary end to the voices whispering in his mind. The town is nothing but darkness, the streets are empty of life and joy; the town almost resembled Silent Hill. When Stiles thinks about it, (which is hard to do, since he stopped taking his Adderall a while ago) he feels like he is trapped in Silent Hill. The darkness swept in one day, bringing with it sinister monsters and hungry demons, and it never went away again.

Maybe it’s always been there though, the darkness that is, he used to believe there were monsters under his bed, he’d even felt them grab him at times, tripping him over. So yes, they have always been there, under the bed, lurking in the shadows, around corners, he could always fight them off, close his eyes and say over and over that they weren’t real and like that, they would be gone. He is weak now; he is worn out from months of running from werewolves and hunters, trying so hard to protect his friends and father from the things that have always haunted him.

These are his own monsters though, demons, creatures that want him and him alone. They’ve been after him for so very long now, he is so tired, he should give in, let them take him. But who knows what hell would await him if he let them have him? He has to keeping going, fighting off the monsters he can see and running from the ones he cannot. Opening his eyes, he blinks to clear away the fog, Derek is about to pull into a MacDonald’s and this is the last place he wants to be.

“What do you want?” Derek breaks the silence, turning into the drive thru instead of parking and going in. Their time away from the house must be happening somewhere else.

“Nothing” Stiles sighed in relief “maybe coffee.”

“You are eating” Derek declared.

Ignoring him, Stiles turned towards the passenger window, there wasn’t much to see, just a near empty parking lot and some rubbish scattered around the over-full bins. His thoughts skipped around, nothing really made sense, he thinks about ravens playing with wolves, how nice it was to spend time with Derek, to have had him sleep so close, Derek wouldn’t want him, he was useless, he hadn’t seen Scott in a while, he hoped his father was ok. Would Scott and Allison ever get back together? Would Derek ever go out with him? One thought to the next, it was a jumbled mess inside his mind without his Adderall to silence everything.

But he’d stopped taking them… they told him to stop taking them. Derek handing him a tall coffee distracted him, he takes the offered drink, stirs in three sugars then takes a tentative sip, when he is satisfied it isn’t scalding hot he drinks more. Derek has also bought Stiles a yoghurt, which he will be eating, no if’s or buts, Stiles flips the alpha off and continues to gaze out the window. It occurs to him suddenly that they are heading in the direction of Derek’s apartment, Stiles hasn’t been there in a while, he wonders if the hole in the wall is still there.

When they get inside five minutes later Stiles sees the giant werewolf-made hole is indeed still in the wall. Immediately losing interest he collapses onto one of the chairs at the dining table, taking small spoonful’s of yoghurt every time Derek glares at him. The apartment itself is sparsely furnished; there is a couch, a TV sitting on an average cabinet, a lamp, a few chairs here and there and a CD player, not to mention the table he and Derek are currently sitting at.

Derek has devoured his breakfast, something Stiles is used to seeing, Scott eats like any meal could be his last, that’s sort of funny, maybe Stiles should be the one doing that. Have one last burger, some curly fries and Reese bar before _they_ come for him. It doesn’t sound appealing, he can hardly make his way through this, it’s Derek’s watchful eye that keep him forcing it down. He’ll eat slowly though, he doesn’t need a repeat of last night.

“I’m going to grab a few things so I can stay at your place until your dad gets back.” Derek disappears upstairs, Stiles can hear him opening and shutting drawers and the rustle of clothes as they are being stuffed into a bag.

“You don’t have to stay” he shouts up at him, eyes wandering to the musty old leather-bound books at the end of the table.

“Yes I do.” Stomping downstairs, he dropped his bag on the floor than heads into the kitchen, grabbing a few things from the fridge before going to the pantry. “I’d rather not leave you alone right now.”

Stiles looked down at the table, tracing a finger over a mug stain, again and again and again. “Can I take some of those books?”

“Sure” Derek is back at his side, duffle hoisted on one shoulder, hands grasping grocery bags. “I saw the ceiling, what exactly are you trying to figure out?”

“I don’t know” he says, getting up to collect the books “but I will soon.”

**XxX**

‘Hey you’ve reached Scott. I can’t get to the phone right now so leave a message after the beep.’

Grinding his teeth, Derek had to hold back the urge to haul his phone across the room, as soon Scott answered his cell Derek was going to abuse the shit out of him. This was not ok, an unanswered phone call here and there was understandable, he was a busy teenage boy who also happened to be a werewolf, but about twenty missed phone calls were not ok. Not with the alpha’s out there, this was not the time for them to be failing at communication skills.

He was really going to kick Scott’s ass for this, no matter what his excuse he had. Derek’s worry had escalated; he had started to doubt his breakdown theory because whatever was happening to Stiles was more than just months and months of stress built up. He was acting like the complete polar opposite of his personality, Stiles was hyper, witty, and talkative, bordering on obnoxious. Well, until you really got to him know, but this person Derek was staying with was nothing like the boy he knew.

Silent, withdrawn, frightened wasn’t something Derek would use to describe Stiles. No, this is not the boy who climbed into a police car to interrogate him. He was jumping at shadows and rambling nonsense, something was really wrong and Derek wasn’t sure he could handle it by himself. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t get hold of Scott, he wouldn’t even think about going near the Argent girl and Lydia wasn’t exactly someone he trusted.

Still he’d put her in the maybe pile, Stiles did trust her after all, and from what he knew about her she was very helpful in tough situations. He didn’t have her number though, he’d have to actually go to her house and in a few hours it would be unsafe to drive through the storm. Listening carefully, Derek heard the steady rhythm of Stiles’s heartbeat that let him know he was asleep, another thing to be concerned about. Derek had been sneaking into Stiles bedroom often enough to know that Stiles never slept much, especially when the people he loved were in danger.

Quickly scribbling a note, he pinned it to the fridge then took off before Stiles woke up or he changed his mind. He looked up Martin on his phone, there were only three in Beacon Hills, and only one lived in the expensive and beautiful Mable Street. Laura used to have a friend there; she lived a magnificent 1980’s Victorian home, Laura had loved it, said one day she would have a home just like it. That day would never come, shaking away the thoughts; Derek started the car and took off.

It takes roughly ten minutes to get to Lydia Martin’s house, by the time Derek has made it there it’s already started raining, in the distance thunder roars. He has no idea what he’s going to say, if she’s even here, she could be with Allison or Jackson and Derek would really rather not go to Jackson’s house, that’s just one place he does not belong. Lydia’s house is immaculate, made of red brick and ivory white windows; the garden is in full bloom, grass mowed neatly and a waterfall takes pride in the centre of the walkway.

It’s big but homey, just the way he remembers his own home being. Taking a deep breath he presses the doorbell, holding it in for a few seconds just in case they don’t hear him. He’s not waiting long before, who he assumes, his Lydia’s mother, opens the door. She is a well-dressed, thin lady with shoulder length blonde hair, she smiles politely at him, she has Lydia’s eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah” he plasters on a charming smile “I was wondering if Lydia was around, I’m Derek.”

“No, sorry, she’s not” Mrs Martin replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “She and Allison have gone to Los Angeles for the weekend. I don’t mean to pry, but you’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yes” his smile faltered, “I’m not… here to ask her out, mama, my friend, Stiles, knows her and he needs some help so I was hoping she was around, to well, help.”

“Oh right” she smiled again, forcing politeness “well, like I said, she’s gone away, but I’ll let her know when she calls next, ok?”

“Alright, thank you” Derek nodded, taking a step back, not liking the look she was giving him.

 “Bye now” with that she closes the door.

Derek sighs in frustration, Los Angeles, really? He was going to convince Stiles to join his pack because Scott wasn’t doing a good job of running his. Lightning flashes bright in the darkening sky, a mighty roar of thunder follows than the rain comes, heavy and fast, soaking Derek in a matter of seconds.

**XxX**

William Shakespeare once wrote: ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’

Well wasn’t that true. Stiles had seen monsters that belonged in the deepest depths of hell; he’d seen people wreaking havoc that would put a demon to shame, like Kate Argent, who burnt a family alive and her father, Gerard, who had wielded his granddaughter like a weapon and beat Stiles to a bloody mess. He’d seen a teenage boy use a supernatural creature to kill for his revenge, slaughtering a building full of people and killing a woman who’d just given birth.

Hell _is_ empty and all the devils _are_ here.

Voices whisper in Stiles’s mind, eyes search frantically over the collage of articles and pictures. He has moved it from the ceiling to the wall, adding some of the things he’d found in Derek’s book to the puzzle. It means something, it’s a message he knows that. He can hear _them_ taunting at him, ‘you should have figured it out by now,’ ‘you’re useless, that’s why they’ve gone and left you behind,’ ‘they don’t need you, Stiles,’ ‘look at it, look at it, it’s right there.’ It’s suddenly clear to him, so fucking clear, how could of he have missed it in the first place!

“Stiles, what’s going on?”

Whirling around, Stiles finds Derek standing behind him, the usual broody expression nowhere to be seen. “I’ve figured it out. What it means, I get it now. I get it!”

“Stiles calm down” Derek’s voice is tight with fear “what have you figured out.”

“The end” he breathes, looking back the mess of papers and pictures.

“The end?” Derek repeats, those bushy eyebrows are raised up high, eyes clouded with concern, jaw flexing. “What end Stiles? What are you talking about?”

“My end” he whirled around to face Derek, eyes wide and frantic. “Don’t you see? It’s my end, it’s right there,” he turns back to the face the wall, gestures widely at it with trembling hands “ _It’s my end_.” Sweat and tears trickle down Stiles’s ashen face, Derek trembles with a fear he’s never felt before. “Don’t you fucking get it? They know now! And they’re hungry. Really fucking hungry. Because for as long as I’ve known, they’ve been chasing me and now they’re ready, now they’re strong enough to break through. And I can’t fight them. I used to be able to when I was strong but… you’ve made me weak. And now I can’t, I can’t!”

“Who Stiles, what is after you?” The alpha takes hold of Stiles’s bony shoulders, there isn’t much of a height different between them but Derek still lowers himself so he can look levelly into Stiles’s eyes. “If you're not strong enough to fight them then I will, I'll look after you, ok? I'll keep you safe.”

“You can’t Derek, it’s too late, no one can stop them now; they’re going to take me!” His voice a shrill cry, legs threaten to buckle beneath him and the tears won’t stop. “They’re big and they’re dark, razor sharp claws tearing out of the sky and I can’t outrun them anymore. I’m just so tired, _so weak_.” He felt like the darkness was strangling him, tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by. He just wanted to breathe. He just wanted to think and wrap his head around this. But he couldn't. There was nothing to understand, the message was clear. _They_ were here, _they_ had broken through the barrier and there was only one to stop them getting to him.

With all his remaining strength he struck Derek across the face, breaking free of the wolf’s iron like grip while he was momentary distracted by the shock. He’d made it to the window by the time Derek had recovered; he had one foot on the edge, the icy rain felt like needles against his face. When he was about to climb all the way out strong arms wrapped around his waist, easily pulling him away from his freedom, he kicked and screamed but he was no match compared to the alpha. Derek pinned him to the bed, Stiles trashed around like a wild animal caught in a trap.

“Calm down and I will let go.”

“I have to go! They’ll win, Derek, if I don’t, it’s the only way. Please, just let me go.” His screams faded to anguished sobs, Derek’s heart broke at the sound. “I don’t want you here; get out, get the hell out.”

“Stiles, I am not going to leave you” warm breath ghosted across his cheek, a reassuring hand tangled in his hair. “Nothing here can hurt you, it’s just you and me, you are safe, I will keep you safe.”

Fight was burning out fast; Derek’s gentle caressing calmed his racing heart. The supernatural warmth calmed his raging mind. “Ok…” he nodded, blinking back tears and wiping snot from his nose “we’re safe.”

Derek let go, gently rolled Stiles onto his side then slid down beside him, pulling him into his arms. “Just get some rest, I’m not going anyway.”

“Ok” Stiles mumbled, feeling the exhaustion wrench him down into the darkness.

**XxX**

Derek watched Stiles sleep, he watched Stiles sleep for four hours straight. He tried ringing Scott a few more times, rang Isaac again to see if he’d heard anything but his beta hadn’t, he suggested trying Peter but calling Peter in this kind of situation seemed like the wrong thing to do. Derek didn’t trust him, how could he? He killed Laura, lost his mind then used Lydia to help himself rise from the dead, nearly driving her crazy in the process, there was definitely enough crazy going on in this house without him. The only person Derek should really be calling was the sheriff, he’d been somewhat bluffing the other night when he’d threaten to call him, since he had no idea he and Stiles were friends but he was out of options.

Searching through Stiles contacts he found the sheriffs number and dialled, there was no dial tone, he waited a few moments but nothing happened. He punched the number into his own cell, called and waited but nothing happened. Panic seized him, a bolt of lightning crackled in the distance and he spun around to face the window, it was only after three but the sky was a black night, the storm raging at full power. Looking back down he found that his cell’s signals were in full strength so the problem must be on the sheriffs end, fucking fantastic.

He’d have to wait him to come back into reception, if Stiles got worse he could take him the hospital, which to Derek felt like a terrible idea, it might be the best place for him, he’d be safer there, however if he started rambling about werewolves then he’d be getting a one ticket to the psych ward. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that Stiles was alright, something inside his mind was broken, he wouldn’t just send him away though, it wasn’t in his blood.

No matter what Stiles thought or anyone said he cared deeply for him, he was pack and pack looked after each other through sickness and in health. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing but once he found the others they could work on this together, no outsiders needed. Picking up Stiles cell, he started to go through the last couple of texts, most to who were from Scott, usually Derek wouldn’t pry, that was Stiles’s job, he needed some clues as to where Scott and his Scooby gang here up to.

Scott: Hey Stiles feeling any better?”

Stiles: Some. Think I got that stomach flu that’s going around.

Scott: Get some rest we need you in top shape for this to work.

There wasn’t any word from Scott for a few days after that, there was a message from Lydia saying she’d bring his homework around and the ‘stuff’ he needed for the spell. Derek interest peeked, spell? What were they up to? Could it have anything to do with Stiles’s state of mind? Further investigation showed no evidence of what this spell was but Scott and Stiles had a fight sometime last week on Friday.

Scott: What the hell is wrong with u? We need u, ok!

Stiles: I said I’m done Scott. I just can’t do this anymore.

The conversation went back and forth, diffident signs of Stiles mind slipping showed throughout the texts, which if Derek had witnessed first-hand he would have just assumed he was talking about the alphas when he said ‘I can’t fight them.’ So had this downward spiral only started the week before last? Was this spell what had caused the delusions to start or was this something more than Derek could solve by searching through a few books of magic. He didn’t know a lot about magic, since werewolves couldn’t wield it, but he’d seen a witch once, someone his aunty knew and she’d been certifiably crazy.

He only ever saw her a few times and eventually she disappeared from their life and Derek forgot all about it until this very moment, but one crazy witch doesn’t mean they’re all crazy. Stiles had never mentioned that he was practicing magic and they’d spent a fair amount of time together over the last two and half months, more so than ever before. Well everyone had their secrets; Derek just wished Stiles had told him, he wished Stiles had told someone. Not about the magic, Derek wasn’t really angry about that, he was angry that yet again Stiles put everyone’s needs before his and now he’s lost it.

Derek remembers the last time he saw Stiles; it had been at midnight, maybe three weeks ago, he’d just wanted to check on him, after the last incident with the alphas. He’d been a sleep, smelling faintly of scotch, he’d let it slip, since he’d a very close encounter just hours earlier. He stayed for a few moments, watching him sleep just like he was now, and headed back out into the wild night, determined to purge this town of the monsters that terrorised its streets. Maybe he should have realised then, when he found Stiles asleep instead of pouring over research, that something was wrong, that his mind was slowing chipping away.

**XxX**

Stiles’ monsters follow him into his sleep. Nothing really makes sense in his dreams, nightmares, everything’s upside down and around the wrong way, it’s like he’s taken a trip down the rabbit hole into Malice in Wonderland. Sometimes he is standing in the woods, not a sound to be heard, not a soul to be seen, the sky above is a grey yet he is bathed in a strange green hue, the forest is so deathly still until suddenly it isn’t.

Everything comes alive.

The trees howl in pain as they break free of the earth that binds them, the ground is crawling with vermin, snakes wrap around his ankles and mice scurry up his legs. Bats fly above him, their screeches pierce the night air, in the distance wolves howl. The full moon is the only source of light in this forest of hands and teeth. Green mist drifts towards him, everything it touches is burnt, cries of pain echoing all around, his stomach twists and bile taints his throat.

The poisonous mist vanishes.

He is hopeless, paralyzed by fear as the world around him comes back to life, so eager and ready to devour him. Beasts dig their way out of the ground, they tower above him, fangs drip red with blood, razor sharp claws glint in the eerie green light. Frozen he stays, staring up into endless black eyes, into a face similar to that of a man’s, but scared and warped into something ghastly. He finds a gun in his hand, he grips it as tightly as his trembling hands will allow, takes a deep breath and aims.

The blood on the forest floor does not belong to the beast, but to the boy who had given in. Stiles has lots of nightmares like these, some take place in burnt remains of the Hale mansion, some at school or home and sometimes even the police station and in each and every one of them he chooses to end his life. There have been guns, knives, pill bottles and long falls into the abyss and every time he wakes up drenched in sweat and thinks maybe it’s the only way.

_Maybe it’s the only way…_

Taking a swig of Jack, Stiles tries to push away the darkness that has entangled itself around him, teeth embedded in his skin, feeding on him like a parasite. He has drinks the rest of the Jack Daniels, hauls the empty bottle across the room only for it to land safely on his desk chair, completely unbroken. He reaches for the unopened bottle under his pillow and starts all over again. This is his life now. Sleep, have terrible nightmares, drink, sleep, have terrible nightmares, drink then repeat and repeat and repeat.

_Maybe it’s the only way…_

Derek storms into his room, grabs the bottle and hauls it out the window, Stiles stares up at him like he is the devil himself. He stares and he stares until the hatred is such a blind rage that he lunges at the alpha, Derek is far too fast, far to power, he simply sidesteps the attack, spins around before Stiles has regained balance and takes hold of him. They struggle for a while, until the rage has burned into desire and Stiles pivots in Derek arms and kisses him greedily. Derek kisses back, it’s fervent and desperate, Stiles tugs at his hair so hard it must hurt; he kisses him so deep that his mouth is going to be bruised.

Suddenly he has been pushed away; wide green eyes tinged red gaze into his own, Stiles throws his head back and laughs. It sounds foreign and wrong, almost painful to his ears, like nails on a chalkboard or the sound of someone going mad. Derek is just standing there, all surprise gone, replaced with concern so clear it can be felt in the air; can taste it on the tip of his tongue. Will he leave or will he stay? Stiles wants both but can’t have both and he is frustrated and confused and maybe completely fucking mad.

_He’s weak…_

“You made me weak” he whispered, staring directly into Derek’s eyes.

“Why?” Is all he asked, all he seemed able to say, he was shaking, chest heaving and Stiles thought good, now you can be weak too.

“Because I love you.”

Derek eyes open wide in a shocked form of bewilderment, he is motionless as a statue, Stiles fidgets but he can’t find anything else to say. He’s not sure what sort of answer he wanted, doesn’t even know if he needs one, his mind is spinning out of control. The voices are loud, they are angry, furious that he has shared this secret, he was never supposed to know, this was a secret, one he was meant to take to his grave, they are so fucking angry.

_Maybe it’s the only way…_

Derek is yelling now, he’s being violently shaken, They just grow louder, Derek is saying ‘Stiles, snap out of it’ but They only get louder and louder. A scream tears from his throat and another and another and that’s all he can do, is scream so he can’t hear them, so he can’t hear Derek. Everything is white noise, he’s not screaming anymore, he’s shouting though, shouting about claws and teeth and a forest that is alive and how they are going to get him. It’s a white blur of panic until a sharp sting knocks the world back into focus.

His hand automatically goes to his cheek, it throbs from where Derek had struck him; the wolf looks guilty. “Hit me again” he shouted, because he felt that and he hasn’t felt anything in oh so long. “I want to feel something.” His throat aches from screaming, begging. “Hit me again, hit me again! I dare you, I’m not scared, I want to be scared! I want to be hurt!”

“Stiles stop.” He is thrown down onto the bed again, he gasps in much needed air, trying to force away the madness. “You have three minutes to calm down or I am taking you to the hospital.”

He takes several deep breaths, they grow silent, his heart rate settles and he can now focus on the rain outside, on Derek’s breath against his skin and the tingle of the kiss. “It’s raining” he breathed “I don’t think you can drive through it, it’s coming down too hard. We might get struck by lightning.”

Derek sighs wearily, stands up, pulling Stiles with him. “C’mon, let’s get dinner started before we lose power, ok?”

“I’m always in the dark, whether there is light or not, I can’t escape it” absently fingers trace over strong cheek bones, stubble tickling his fingertips. “Please help me escape it.”

Derek takes his hand, brushing a gentle kiss over his palm, “I won’t leave you.”

Stiles nods wordlessly. Derek takes his hand and they head downstairs, he does his best to shut out the voices but they keep screaming at him. He makes you weak, he makes you weak, he makes you weak and this weakness will allow us to get to you. We’ll torture you, the ones you love, we’ll flay you alive, burn your world down around you with the snap of our fingers.

_Maybe it’s the only way…_

**XxX**

The house vibrates from the storm, the windows rattle, rain pounds against the roof and the wind howls like a beast. Derek watches Stiles carefully, he is stabbing at his food in a poor attempt to seem like he is eating something but he has only taken a few mouthfuls. Sad, glassy eyes stare blankly down at the stir-fry Derek cooked for them both, he takes another bit and Derek sags slightly in relief. Tomorrow he will take Stiles to the hospital, the storm outside is raging and Derek wouldn’t risk the drive, maybe it’s just him being over protected, but he really doesn’t want to take Stiles to the hospital. He knows what they’ll do with him and the thought makes him sick.

The idea of someone locking Stiles away in some mental hospital is not something Derek wants to think about, let alone consider. The choice isn’t really his though, right now it is, since he is the only sane person in this house, but tomorrow when the sheriff comes back he’ll lose the power of this decision. He’s not sure what awaits Sties; he has no God damn clue as to what is wrong with him, so he’ll take this night, he’ll protect him from the monsters and most importantly he’ll protect him for himself.

When Stiles takes a bit of carrot he thinks about those soft lips forcefully against his own. It kind of reminded him of when Erica kissed him, he’d been unprepared and completely taken of guard, though more so with Stiles, he’d never noticed him falling slowly in love with him, then again maybe it was just the crazy talking. Stiles was so different to anyone Derek had ever known, he was this whirlwind of energy, bursting at the seams with heart and loyalty, he was everything an alpha could possible want.

He was everything Derek never knew he needed.

The question still remained though, was his declaration of love true or some feeling bought on by his unstable mind. Not to mention there are a thousand and one reasons Derek should stay away from Stiles, should run so freaking far away and never look back, but everything was different now. Today, last night, it had changed everything. Stiles was a bad choice when he was in his right mind, now that he wasn’t… God he felt guilty about the kiss, about slapping him, he was an adult and Stiles was seventeen and he’d only been year younger when Kate Argent walked into his life.

That’s why he had never acted upon his feelings, he wouldn’t screw Stiles up like Kate did him, then again, it may be too late. He had gone completely mad and no one had fucking noticed and this, this couldn’t have just happened over night, it must have been happening for months. How long had he been falling apart, since Gerard, since Matt, since Peter or sometime before then or somewhere in-between? All this fighting and lying and having a broken pack is why they had missed this, if they had been together they would have felt the pull of Stiles insanity and they could have fixed it long before it got this bad.

Now it’s far too late, Stiles is a shadow of the boy he was and help can only be found in the hands of outsiders. For now, for tonight Derek will watch over him, he’ll keep him safe. He has failed enough people, so he’ll make damn sure he doesn’t fail Stiles. Collecting Stiles bowl he heads to the sink to throw away their scraps and do the dishes, when Stiles had been freaking out earlier Derek had felt so hopeless at what to do, it wasn’t his words that had calmed Stiles but his power to take away pain.

He wasn’t sure it would work, he knew it could take away psychical pain but mental? Well he’d had to try and thank Christ it worked, it left Stiles in a docile state, he looked like he’d been drugged, even his speech had become a little slurred. When he’d finished the dishes he turn back around to face Stiles, he sat with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, staring down at the table with unseeing eyes. The lights flickered as a loud crackle of lightning struck the power lines before leaving them in complete darkness.

“Stiles, are you ok?” No answer “Stiles?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” 

Calling on his inner wolf he used its vision to light up the darkness, Stiles was still exactly where he was before. “I can see, so I’ll go find us some flashlights.”

“Under the sink, there’s a camping lantern.” Stiles stood, he was moving towards Derek, arms outstretched in the darkness.

“Stay where you are until I get some light in here, ok?” He watched Stiles nod before going to grab the lantern; he found it straight up and flicked on the switch. The room was illuminated in an eerie glow, Stiles looked so much worse in the dim light; he could now see the shivers coursing through his frail body. “We might as well go to bed; I don’t think we’ll be getting the lights back on until the morning.”

Derek studies Stiles closely, he’s just standing there, looking miserable, tired and so God damn lost, his hands wring together nervously;  fingernails have been chewed to the quick. Funny, Derek always imagined Stiles as a nail biter. “I’m sorry I kissed you” his voice is steady but quiet.

There are so many things Derek could say, ‘I wanted to kiss you’ ‘you shouldn’t have done that’ but it’s all so complicated and that is the last thing they need right now. When Stiles is better they will talk, figure this out somehow. “It’s fine” he finally says. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” In the morning, in the morning everything will be ok.

_Everything has to be ok._

**XxX**

Lightening lights up the night sky, the house continued to shake, feeling like at any given moment it would blow away, be nothing more than ash in the wind. Stiles wished he could be ash in the wind, blowing someplace bright and safe and very, very far from here. Rolling over, Stiles looks down at Derek who is fast asleep on the ground, he’s never seen him look so peaceful, so young. He looks even more handsome in the dim light of the battery operated pumpkin Stiles had used for Halloween so many years ago. Not wanting to be surrounded in darkness, well anymore then he already was, Derek agreed to leave the light on. It wasn’t overly bright, just enough to light up Derek’s features in an orange glow. 

Stiles doesn’t quite remember when he fell in love with Derek, it felt like it had been building for ages, moving from admiration to infatuation until it slowly became love. Stiles thought it would only ever be Lydia that he could love then Derek snuck up on him, dangerous and mysterious Derek. They had been a time of denial, it was hormones making him lust for the werewolf, he hated the guy, he was a grouch, then came the Kanima, Gerard, Matt and now the alpha pack and they’d been forced to work together and that denial started to trickle away.

Then they got stronger, hungrier, louder, so fucking loud and everything came crumbling down around him, dust and debris everywhere and no one around to help him fight his way out. They weren’t going away, he couldn’t ignore them like he once could, even music and drink would hardly silence them and when Derek was around, they roared. Derek made him weak, Derek didn’t love him, he was pathetic, why would someone as strong and handsome as Derek want someone like Stiles? A human boy was no match for a werewolf, standing next to Derek made him weak, he made him weak.

_He made him feel…_

A pounding heart, a flush creeping up his neck, butterflies churning in his stomach, a happiness he hadn’t felt in so long was exactly what Derek Hale made him feel. Alive, important, special. Sliding out from under the covers, Stiles dropped down to the floor and snuggled up next to the alpha; his unnatural warmth chased away the ever-present chill. Trembling lips pressed barely there kisses along a strong jaw line, over stubbled cheeks and closed eyelids. Breathing in the scent of the forest, of earth, Stiles felt serene, for the first time in so long.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” demanded a groggy Derek.

Stiles didn’t startle, he slowly opened his eyes and gazed longingly into Derek’s green, green ones. “I want to feel something.”

“Stiles” Derek cupped Stiles face, caressing his cheek with a surprisingly soft thumb. “What do you want me to do?”

Stiles sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing nervously. “Kiss me.”

Carefully, slowly, Derek titled his head up, catching Stiles’ lips in a soft, barely there kiss. Stiles melted against the contact, body quivering in desire, in need, want more, need more. He closed the distance between them. The kiss is deep, ravenous like the monsters in Stiles’ head, he tangles himself up in Derek, hands grip tightly at hair and clothing, a leg is thrown over his waist, bodies being pushed together as close as humanly possible, yet it’s still not enough.

He can still hear them, no matter how hard he kisses, how close he gets, they won’t shut up, they just won’t fucking shut up. He’s crying now, sobs building in his chest, Derek has him pinned gently to the floor, face nuzzling his cheek, whispering nonsense words. He clings onto him like he is the last breath of air in a pair of dying lungs, the words Derek speaks make no sense to him but they calm him anyway, he lets his eyes drift shut and breathes him in.

He thinks ‘I love you; I love you _so fucking much_.’

He breaths out and thinks _‘goodbye’…._

**XxX**

If Derek believed in God he’d be praying right about now, he’d be down on his fucking knees begging that He fix this, fix Stiles, because this wasn’t ok, Stiles wasn’t fucking ok. Derek was scared; he hadn’t been scared in a very long time, not like this. There was ice in his veins, trembling hands gripped the steering wheel and every breath was like shards of glass in his throat. Stiles had begged him to go and buy him a burger, some curly fries and a Reese bar, Derek had agreed but said Stiles had to come. He simply shook his head, flopped back on the bed and stared Derek down.

Now he was pulling up at Rosie’s diner and he was already regretting his decision. He left Stiles at home, while he was out of his mind, God he’d better be ok. If anything happened to him he’d never forgive himself. The wait at Rosie’s isn’t too long; he’d rung up and ordered first, hoping to make this trip as short as possible. He grabbed a few different sorts of Reese bars, paid for the food then rushed back to the car, heart pounding like a drum.

He broke several laws on his drive home; luckily the streets were mostly empty, the rain had finally calmed down and the power had been in full working order when Derek finally untangled himself from Stiles. The sun would be out by late afternoon, it was a brand new day, but nothing would ever be the same though. He’d given in to his feelings, against his better judgment he’d kissed Stiles and there was no going back from this. What he felt, what he finally admitted to himself, couldn’t simply be turned off, this weekend couldn’t be forgotten, for so many reasons.

Derek had, fuck it, he had fallen in love with Stiles and he hadn’t loved anyone in such a long time. He’d never loved anyone with such intensity. It’s terrifying to give in to his desire, he had become so used to hiding everything, burying things so nothing, so no one else could hurt him the way she had. Stiles was out of his mind right now, but this wasn’t who he was, something or someone had broken him, torn away all the goodness in his heart and life inside his veins. Derek was now more determined than ever to fix him.

_His, Stiles was his…_

Pulling into the driveway Derek could hear music coming from inside, it had been so silent all weekend, a house of darkness, now with music blaring out the windows it seemed like a home. A small smile graced Derek’s face as he entered, the song changed to a familiar-ish tune, he called out to Stiles but received no answers.  A beating heart was proof enough that Stiles was alive, it was beating a little fast, it was beating from the kitchen. Rushing into the room Derek almost stumbled over in his surprise, Stiles was standing, dancing, on top of the kitchen table, he was spinning around in slow circles, arms out stretched wide.

 _Life's too short to even care at all oh_  
I'm coming up now coming up now out of the blue  
These zombies in the park they're looking for my heart  
Oh oh oh oh  
A dark world aches for a splash of the sun oh oh

 “Stiles! Get down before you fall” Derek stepped closer, ready to catch Stiles if he should trip. “Please.”

“I can't hear them when the music plays,” he said in a dreamy voice, spinning around and around and around. “I know they are there, always fucking there, but I can make them quiet.”

“Ok,” Derek doesn’t know what else to say, what would someone even say in a situation like this? “Just hop down, you’re going to fall.”

Suddenly he stops, wavering where he stands “You got my food?”

“Yes” he smiled, offering a hand for Stiles to take, relief flooding him. “Let’s eat, ok?

Declining the offered hand he jumps down, landing on unsteady legs but managing to stay up right “Do you like this song?”

“Sure” he shrugged, trying for nonchalant but he was ready to fall apart himself, this had gone on too long, he couldn’t fix Stiles alone, he needed help and he needed help now. “I’m not so hungry, why don’t you go upstairs eat, I’ll be up soon.”

Stiles took the bag, honey brown eyes wide and unfocused; a lopsided grin on his face. “I’m going to have a sleep after, so take your time.”

Derek looked over at the clock, it was only a quarter too one, they’d slept in until around ten and didn’t get up until about eleven. Then again he wasn’t sure how much sleeping Stiles was actually doing at night. “Sure, go, I’ll be here. Just take it easy.”

Stiles moved forward and threw his arms around Derek in a tight embrace, it felt like hours until he let go, stepping back to kiss him, slow and tender, then he was gone and Derek was staring at the space where he’d just been. He could still feel the warmth of Stiles’ hands on his back, the tingle of his kiss, whisper of his breath. He couldn’t lose Stiles now, he wouldn’t survive it, he couldn’t. Help, he needed help.

**XxX**

Stiles wakes up at exactly three PM, sweat drips from his bow, he gulps in much-needed air as he tries to shake off the cobwebs of his nightmare. Death, there’d been so much of it, blood everywhere, monsters around every corner, they had found him, they were here, this battle was nearly over. A last dance, a last meal, a kiss goodbye, he was nearly done, almost ready; he’d be in peace soon. He’d be someplace safe and bright and very, very far from here.

He writes four goodbye letters, one to Scott, one to Derek, one for his dad and one for the pack. He doesn’t say much to the pack, just to be good, to be stronger, stronger than he was, than he could be. He tells Scott to be brave, to use his head, treat Derek better and look after his dad. He tells his dad to look after himself, that he loves him and he is so very sorry. He writes a lot to Derek, goes on about how he loves his eyes and his true smile, his laugh, the touch of his skin, the feel of his kiss. Be brave, be kind, be strong, love, he writes, I’m sorry, this was the only way, this way they can’t have me, I am free.

He takes one last look at his room, thinking of all the nights Derek had snuck in through the window, the times he and Scott had spent staying up til dawn as they talked about girls and everything that was once normal to them. He breathes in and he breathes out, it’s time, they are here, they could take him any moment now. Numb legs carry him to the bathroom, the door is closed, locked, the shower turned on fall blast.

Falling to the fall he lets out a broken sob that he muffles with his hands. Heaving himself viciously back up, he steps under the warm spray of the shower. Trembling fingers reach into his pockets, pulling out the pocket knife he’d been given for his fifteen birthday; he’d been carrying it around with him all morning, waiting for the right time. There wasn’t really a right time though, there just had to be a time. They can’t have him, he won’t let them win, this is the only way he’ll be free _._

_He’ll be free._

The blade feels like salvation in his hand, the sun after dawn, a promise of light in a dark, dark night. There is no pain when he drags the blade across his wrist, just a sweet satisfaction of victory, relief floods him. Freedom is close, so close. He closes his eyes and slips to the floor; he can’t feel a thing, not the hot blast of water or sting of his wound. He feels tired, drunk, darkness of a different kind is rushing up to greet him, to take of him away, to protect him.

When he opens his eyes he will be someplace safe and bright and _very, very far from here._

**XxX**

The light had faded from the sky when Derek’s phone started to ring. He fumbled with the stupid thing before finally hitting the right button and bringing it to ear; he didn’t wait to see who was calling or bother with hello. “Where the hell have you been? I have been calling you all weekend, Scott. Stiles is out of his freaking mind, I don’t know what to do, he won’t eat or get out of bed and I have to keep prying alcohol from his hands. Scott, I am really fucking worried… I think…” Derek took a deep breath; he’d watched Stiles so carefully all weekend, refused to leave even when Stiles screamed at him to get out, to get the hell out. “I’m worried that if I leave him alone he’s going to try and kill himself.”

There are a few moments of intense silence, Derek’s heart’s pounding in his chest, he needs Scott to say something, to just say it’s all going to be ok.

“Put my son on the phone.”

Derek sways; he actually feels his legs threatening to buckle underneath him as the sheriff’s voice knocks the wind out of him. He should have thought about this, that it might be the sheriff calling, not Scott, fuck. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go, he was going to do it calmly, not just yell out every little fear. He can’t take it back though; he turns towards the house and heads inside on shaking legs. When he gets inside he does fall over, the phone slipping from sweaty palms as every fear washes over him. Amongst the smell of soapy dish water, fresh laundry, milk half-gone bad and take away wafting from Stiles' bedroom, is the distinctive smell of copper.

The smell of blood…a lot of blood.

The world stopped for that moment, the only thing Derek was aware of is the smell of copper tainting the air. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t move, he had to move, why couldn’t he fucking move? He was paralyzed by fear; all he could hear was the pounding of his heart. Everything seemed to be tilting, slipping in and out of focus the way it did the day Laura arrived at school and told him that there been a fire, mum and dad didn’t make it, no one made it. He had to get up; he couldn’t lose Stiles, not now, not ever.

The world comes rushing back in as suddenly as it went away, the Sheriff’s frantic voice is shouting through the phone, the sound of running water and a slowing heartbeat echoes in his ears. He is up and running, he’s at the bathroom door before he can even blink, he’s never been more grateful for his unnatural speed then he is right now. He charges into the room like an angry bull, the door swings back on broken hinges, the bathroom is blanketed in steam; the smell of blood is nauseating. Derek can just see Stiles, a fragile pile of bones and wet clothes stained red on the shower floor.

Rushing forwards, he drops down beside Stiles, water cascades down around them, blood is gushing from Stile’s wrist, he is too pale, too still. He wasn’t outside long, surely it wasn’t long? He’d listened for Stiles’ heartbeat, it had been steady, he was asleep, there had been tires screeching in the distance and he just never checked back on Stiles. That’s the problem when you’ve had super hearing from birth; you learn to block things out, focus on something else, on nothing at all.

A weak moan from Stiles has Derek snapping back to attention, the shower is forced off so hard that the taps crack under the pressure, a handtowel pulled free from its hanger and wrapped tightly around his wrist to stem the blood flow. Derek lifts Stiles up, cradling him close to his body, one hand holding pressure on the towel that is slowly turning crimson. He has to get Stiles to hospital, he has to pull himself together and treat this like any other serious injury, there’ll be time to deal later.

The drive to the hospital is a blur, Stiles is strapped into the Camaro in such a way that his wrist is above his heart, he is barely conscious and wouldn’t have been able to hold it up himself. Would have he even wanted to? Derek can’t think about that right now, he has to get Stiles to the hospital; he has to make sure he’s going to be ok then he can step back and look at this for what it really is. He drives faster, the towel is crimson, Stiles is shaking, so is Derek.

Screeching to a halt in front of emergency Derek is out of the car faster than is humanely possible and if he was in his right mind he would be worried about exposure, but he’s not in his right mind at all. Bundling Stiles into his arms he runs into the hospital, screaming like a mad man. Its chaotic, people are rushing in from every direction, shouting orders and prying Stiles from his arms, it takes every ounce of strength he has to let go. He is swept away in a sea of blue of and white, Derek is left standing in the entrance with bloodstained clothes and a shattering heart.

‘Please, let him be ok’ is all he can think. _‘God just let him be ok…’_

**XxX**

Somewhere a clock is ticking.

It’s not warm, it’s cold, almost freezing, it’s not bright, it’s dark, too dark; he doesn’t think he’s very, very from home at all. He feels weak, weaker than he’s ever felt in his life, his wrist stings uncomfortably, something is on his face and something is in his right hand. Somewhere a clock is ticking. Not wanting to open his eyes, not ready at all to welcome back the world, the monsters he tried escape, he listens, tries to work out where he is by sound and touch.

The object on his face is oxygen, two prongs are blowing steadily into his nostrils, the thing in his hand is a drip, he can practically feel the needle in his skin. The air is tainted by bleach and antiseptic, footsteps, loud chatter and constant beeping can be heard as well as the clock that is ticking loudly. He is about to consider opening his eyes when hears the door swing open and the squeak of shoes against linoleum flooring. Something warm and solid is placed on his shoulder, trying not to tense, he allows that warmth to spread through him, he’s dreadfully cold.

It’s a hand, he realizes when four fingers scratch their blunt nails lightly over his skin, it’s not Derek, his touch is almost like fire, it brings Stiles back to life. No, the hand on his arm is his father’s, he can feel the cool spot against his skin right where is wedding band is. Guilt is what he should feel, for leaving, for attempting to leave his father, but he’s too tired to feel guilt. There is the sound of metal being dragged carefully towards his bed, a weary sigh as his father sits down onto a hard plastic chair. Just a guess, but hospitals only seem to have hard chairs, made of metal and plastic and sickly colours.

The door swings open again, a familiar sweet scent wafts in with the visitor, there is also the very distinct smell of coffee. “Here you go” says Melissa McCall “fresh hot coffee, just the way you like it.”

His father takes a sip “you really didn’t have to go and get me actual drinkable coffee.”

“I didn’t” a pause “Derek did.”

Stiles’ heart jumps, he wants to open his eyes but he’s just so tired.

“I know I’m missing something here” the clock ticks. “But right now I am too much of a wreck too care. How did I let it get this far, Melissa? I’m his father, I should have noticed that he wasn’t eating, that he stayed up all night and slept all day, how did I miss this? What kind of father am I?”

“None of us noticed, and if we did, we put it down to him being a teenager. It’s the hardest time in our lives, so many changes and it makes it harder to pick up on one erratic behaviour from the next.” There is silence; the air is thick with guilt.

“I am still a terrible father.”

Stiles wants to say ‘no, you’re not, you can’t stop them,’ he wants to scream ‘I tried, Derek should have let me go.’

“What happens next?” The sheriff asked voice heavy with emotion. 

“Well, he stays here for twenty-four or seventy-four hours, a social worker will drop by and talk to you both and probably Derek, depending on what they think is wrong with Stiles” Melissa explained. “They will probably recommend you admit him to Beacon Hills Psychiatric Hospital for ongoing treatment.” 

“I can’t just lock him away, like some mad person, I know my son! He wouldn’t…” John choked back a sob “I know that he, it’s just… God Melissa, what’s wrong with him?”

“I’m not really the right person to answer that and I know as your friend, you want me to give you one, but I can’t, John” she sighs heavily.

John takes in a deep breath, Stiles feels his father’s hand tighten momentarily on his bicep. “I’ve seen people who have been hurt… abused do things like this, what if somebody hurt him and he was too afraid to tell me? What if those bastards who took Stiles after the lacrosse game did more than rough him up?”

“No” with all his strength Stiles forced his eyes open, the room was spinning, he felt nauseated from his toes to his throat. “No one’s hurt me. I just… I can’t… I’m scared.”

“Scared of who son?” his father asked gently, staring down at him with glistening eyes. 

“Of them” he whispered.

“Who are they? Stiles, you can tell me,” John moves to sit on the bed, taking one of Stiles’ ice cold hands into his own.  “I’ll protect you, ok. You’re safe here.”

“No, I’m… they can always find me, they come out of the shadows, scream at me from in here” he raps aggressively at his head. “They want to devour, to destroy, I had to escape them, I was so close, you saved me. I was so close. Why did you save me?” He is shouting now, tears streaming down his face.

“Son look at me,” warm hands cup his face, brushing away salty tears “you need to calm down.”

“No, I want Derek, where’s Derek, he makes them quiet, they don’t like him, he makes them quiet.” He is borderline hysterical, taking shallow breaths as he struggles to fill his screaming lungs.

“Melissa, go get Hale” John ordered over his shoulder. “Stiles, hey, breathe, no one here will hurt you, it’s just you and me kiddo, just breathe, come on breathe.”

Stiles takes in a few deep breaths, he feels so exhausted, beyond exhausted, all he can do is sag in defeat and grip his father’s hand weakly.

**XxX**

When Derek was ten he’d asked Laura what a hospital looked like, her bright red lips stretched into a grin and she flipped her long hair over one shoulder. “Why don’t we go and find out, Der Bear?” She ruffled his hair playfully. “We’ll just pretend we’re visiting someone.” Derek grinned back at her before racing off to her car.

The hospital was not a fun place; it smelt of illness and death, of bleach so strong it made him gag. Laura took his hand, told him to block it all out and dragged him along to the nursery. It smelt like life, of milk, tears and happiness. There were ten tiny babies in the nursery; he ogled at all them, marveling at how something so small could be so loud. “Even though this place is full of the sick and dying it’s also home to life” Laura smiled meaningfully down at him. “So remember that, ok? This place isn’t just where people go to die but where they go to bring life into the world.”

Thirteen years later and Derek wished like crazy he had Laura here to tell him it was going to be alright; that they could fix Stiles. With time, patience and love everything would be ok. Derek’s been pacing up and down the same corridor for the last two hours, wracking his brain for a solution to this, a magical fix. He doesn’t have time or patience, he needs Stiles to be ok right now, he can’t lose him, he has allowed himself to feel again and he won’t, he won’t be hurt again.

Somewhere inside he is angry at Stiles for doing this, for trying, _wanting_ to leave him, how could he think that after this weekend Derek could live without him? All this time he’s been hiding his feelings, had them locked up and shoved deep into his mind, now they are free, he finally feels them. He can’t lock them up again, the box is broken; Stiles broke it when he said ‘because I love you.’ So everything has to be ok, Stiles has to be ok because, because he’s already lost everything he held close to heart and he will not survive this. He’ll fix Stiles, even if has to march straight into hell for a cure.

Hair at the nape of neck stands on end when the familiar scent of Scott drifts through the ocean of bleach and death. Turning towards the scent detects Jackson as well, Lydia and Allison are also with them, Derek is going to kill him, he’s going to kill them all. Rounding the corner he nearly walks straight into Scott, without a second thought he grabs him by the collar of his shirt and shoves him into the wall with such force that it cracks. Lydia and Allison had jumped back in surprise, Jackson looks like he might offer some help, then again, he really is a snake.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demands, eyes bleeding red “I called you a hundred Goddamn times, I needed help, Stiles needed help, where were you?”

Scott has the decency to looked terrified, big brown eyes blown wide in fear. “I… we left to go find the ingredients for The Linking Spell” he sputtered “we couldn’t tell many people because we didn’t want the alphas to think something was up. Stiles knew, he’s the one who found the spell.”

“Stiles is out of his freakin’ mind, Scott” Derek shoves him against the wall one last time then steps back, eyes slowly fading back to green.

“Why? What’s happened, Derek?” Scott looks to Allison; she stepped up next to him and took his hand in hers.  “Mum called and said Stiles was here, she didn’t say what happened. I thought he was at home with the flu, Derek, I honestly did.”

“Of course you did” Derek snarled, Allison glared daggers at him, he ignored her. “He tried to kill himself.” Scott took a step back, Allison gasped in shocked and Lydia and Jackson exchanged worried looks.

“What happened?” Lydia stepped forward; her usual air of confidence seemed to be faltering. “Derek what happened?”

“I… I don’t even know how to explain it” he scrubs a hand over his face, trying to collect his thoughts. “He’s just not himself, he’s not sleeping or eating… he’s manic.” Folding his arms over his heaving chest, Derek falls back against the wall as he deflates. He just needs to rest, to be with Stiles so he can see for himself that he’s ok, that there is way, someone who can help, who can fix him.

“I didn’t notice” Scott whispered, sounding on the verge of tears “I just… I didn’t think to text him when we were away or when he didn’t show up at school. It’s like I thought about him, I did, but when I went to contact him something stopped me or” his rambling is cut short by a broken sob; Allison pulls him into her arms.

“Permissum mihi exsisto” Derek’s attention snaps towards Lydia, she looks deep in thought. “Let Me Be” She snaps her fingers, startling Scott and Allison out of their embrace. “It’s a spell from the book Stiles has. It’s why Scott and the rest of us didn’t contact Stiles, he was blocking us, he wanted to be alone so he made it so by casting the permissum mihi exsisto spell.”

“So… I am not a terrible friend?” Scott asked with hopeful puppy eyes.

Derek scoffed. “I still went to see him.”

“He might not have included you” Lydia points an accusing finger at him; he shrinks back against the wall. “Anyway, right now, we need to focus on Stiles. You said he was acting manic? Well, looking back on the last few months he has been acting strange, more so than usual.”

“So what could be wrong with him?” Jackson asked.

“Could it be something… you know, supernatural?” Allison suggested. “Or maybe the magic you and Stiles were working with?” she directs to this at Lydia.

“I don’t think so” Lydia asserted. “We did our homework, only using dark magic can splinter the mind, we weren’t doing anything more harmful than floating feathers.”

“So what’s wrong?” Scott whirled around; fist colliding with the wall he’d been slammed up against just moments before; the plaster collapsed in on itself, leaving Scott’s hand trapped. “Shit.”

“Here, let me help, McCall.” Jackson wrapped his hand tightly around Scott’s wrist and pulled him free, more of the wall crumbled away, Derek hoped there weren’t any security cameras around here.

“Ok, well now that you and Derek have finished with your remodeling of the place” Lydia said, glancing at the wall before turning back to address everyone. “How about we go find the sheriff so can see Stiles and find out what the hell is going on.”

The pack nodded in agreement, they fell into step behind Derek as they headed back into the bustling waiting room. Miss McCall appears in the midst of the crowd, she calmly walks over to them, embracing Scott in a tight hug before stepping back to address Derek. She tells him that Stiles is awake and alert, that he has lost a fair amount of blood but after a few days rest he should be fine physically, adding that he had asked to see him. Derek nods a thank you before he took off; he heard Scott complain about wanting to see Stiles and caught Melissa shouting ‘he’s in room 12, on ward B’ at him as he rounded the corner, heart pounding like a freight train.

Moments later, he has to stop himself bursting through the closed door; it’s only the scent of someone unfamiliar that stops him just in time. Training his hearing he listens closely to the voices inside the room, he can picks up on Stiles first, they he could hear him a crowd of a thousand. The Sheriff speaks up next then a female voice adds ‘your son will be better off there’ in a clinical tone, Derek doesn’t like her already. He steps aside, leaning against the wall as he continues to listen.

“I’m not doing anything you’re not comfortable with, son” the sheriff said in a soothing voice. “I don’t care if I lose my job; I’ll stay home and keep an eye on you.”

“Dad, I can’t ask you do that.” Stiles sounded so tired, so small “this will be for the best.” Derek can practically hear the forced smile.

“Beacon Hills Psychiatric Hospital is a wonderful place, I’ve had a lot of people imagining padded cells” the strange woman explained. Derek scrunched up his face, he didn’t care if the place was a palace, he didn’t want Stiles to go there. “You will either have a private room or share one, depends on how many patients are there at the current time, but I assure you, it will be the best for everyone evolved.”

“I’ll be able to visit him right?” The sheriff asked. Derek straightened up against the wall.

“Of course” she replied. “Stiles will even be able to take some of his own possessions in, but there will be a list of what he can’t take. A psychiatrist will be by later to make a proper diagnosis and they will need a statement from…” there was the sound of rustling paper “Uh, yes, Derek Hale and we’ll go from there.”

Stepping away from the door, Derek turned away until the woman had walked past, once her thin frame had vanished into another room he took a deep breath, ready to face this head on. Knocking on the door as he slowly opened it, he stepped into the cold, bleak room. Stiles was a frail bag of bones, he looked ashen against the snow white sheets, eyes red and puffy. The sheriff looked like a man on the verge of collapse, Derek knew how much he loved his son, he couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for him.

“Derek” the sheriff stands, alpha or not, Derek shoves his hands deep into his pockets and hunches his shoulders. “I am grateful that you got Stiles to the hospital on time.” He takes a deep breath, placing both hands on his hips. “But I’d really like to know why you thought it was ok to spend the weekend, alone, in my house, with my underage son.” He really added emphasis to ‘alone’ and ‘underage’.

“I honestly didn’t come over with the intent to stay all weekend, sir” Straightening up, he squared his shoulders and acted like the alpha he was. “When I arrived, Stiles was…” he glanced over to him, so small and lost, he wanted to tell the sheriff everything but he felt like he’d be betraying Stiles somehow. He needed help though, they had to fix him and keeping things hidden wouldn’t help any, Stiles can be mad at him if he wants, at least he’ll be getting better. “He was scared, confused, so I stayed to make sure he was ok.”

“And you didn’t think to bring him to the hospital?” The sheriff prodded.

“I know that I should have… I just couldn’t… I didn’t know what would happen.” Looking down, he scuffs the toe of his sneakers on the ground, going for young and naïve, when he knows should have known better. “I don’t trust easily, sir, I just wanted to look after him myself.” Looking up he offers what he hopes is a pleading look.

Sighing heavily the older man collapses back into his chair, the tension eases from Derek’s shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m in a grateful mood.” Turning to face his son, he smiles softly at him, Stiles doesn’t return it; for a fact he is sound asleep.

“Are you really going to send him to that place?” he blurts out. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just, kinda…” he trails off, smiling sheepishly.

“Overheard?” the sheriff raised his brow in suspicion. “It’s not really your place to decide what happens, Derek. I’ll do what’s best for my son.”

“Of course” Derek shifted around awkwardly. “I just want him to get better.”

 “You really care about him, don’t you?” he asked, settling back in the chair, he was going to be here awhile. 

“Yes, a lot” rubbing his hand over the back his neck nervously he added “a lot, actually.”

“When did you guys even start hanging out?” He was trying for nonchalant but protectiveness underlined his words.

“A while ago, he just kinda snuck up on me and wouldn’t leave.”

The sheriff smiles warmly down at his slumbering son. “That sounds just like him.”

“So, I know you don’t really know me and that I should have bought Stiles here sooner but can I…” Swallowing hard, looking down at Stiles he finds his strength to carry on. “Can I stay? I want to help him getter better, please, if you’ll let me.”

Standing up, the sheriff walked over to Derek and offered him his hand. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

**Three Days Later**

Beacon Hills Psychiatric Hospital is not what Stiles had imagined; he’d envisioned an ancient building with bars on every window, ominous clouds looming in the distance. Today was bright and sunny, the building was no more than ten or so years old and it did not have bars on every window. It pretty much resembled Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, only on a smaller scale. Hugging his pillow tight to his chest, Stiles tentatively followed his father through the sliding glass doors and up to the admissions desk.

 Two days ago Stiles was diagnosed with psychotic depression by Doctor Kahlan Alder, a friendly redheaded woman with a welcoming smile and bright lavender eyes. The voices in his head were not real, the puzzle on his wall was not a warning of his death, there are no monsters lurking in the darkness. Well, there were, but not these ones, they were just all in his head and you’d think knowing that would be enough to get them to shut up, to believe they could not harm him.

No, it wasn’t enough; they were still so very loud, so very near and ready. He’d had a few freakouts; he’d been so confused as to what was real and what wasn’t. What if Derek wasn’t real? What if he was just the friendly monster he’d made up to deal with the demonic ones? It made sense didn’t it? After all, werewolves, seriously how could he have actually believed that there were fucking werewolves running around the town, how could he believe he’d fallen in love with one.

Scott had been there at the time these thoughts started whirling around in Stiles’ head. He’d held Stiles until he calmed down, he told him over and over that yes, werewolves were real, the last six months weren’t a lie, wasn’t some fantasy. He promised that nothing was going to hurt him, no real or imaginary monsters would lay a finger on him. Derek and the others had arrived shortly after; Scott made them all prove to Stiles that they were real, friendly, werewolves.

 _Werewolves are real; the monsters in my head are not. I have psychotic depression and am being admitted to Beacon Hills Psychiatric Hospital. I will get better here._  This is mantra; he chants it over and over in his head whenever he gets confused and unsure of things. The voices are not there, not there, not there, but they are oh so loud, louder than ever before, perhaps they know their days are numbered. As he is led through a series of doors he starts to feel panic seize him, the long corridor is too white, too empty.

At the end a nurse opens the door to reveal another sort of reception area, similar to what you’d find in a hospital. A nurse in her late thirties greets them, she takes the duffle his father had been carrying and hands it to male nurse, asking them to search it for dangerous objects. The only thing in there that could be considered a decent weapon is the book Lydia had given him on mediation. She’d arrived at the hospital a few hours before he was to be released, carrying a rather large gift basket.

Doctor Adler had already given Stiles a list of things he couldn’t bring here, shoelaces, sharp objects, lighters and his iPod was off limits as well as his phone, which he reluctantly handed over to the nurse. He hugged his pillow tighter to his chest. He knew he was here to get better, to make the voices stop, that didn’t mean he had to like it though. In all honesty, he felt like a scared child at their first sleepover, only Stiles was never scared on his first sleepover, because he was with Scott and it was Scott’s house which Stiles thought of as his second home, this place was foreign to him.

The nurse lead them towards a room that wasn’t more than ten or so feet from the nurses’ station, the nurse explains to his father that it was because he is a higher risk patient, Stiles just hangs his head and follows them in. The room is not what he had been expecting, sure he didn’t actually believe he’d be locked in some padded cell, but this looks more like a lavish dorm then a room in a mental hospital. The room has two large windows overlooking the forest, the afternoon sun streams in, bathing the room in gold.

A king single with a green duvet is to the left, with a nightstand on the side closest to the window, a few feet in front of the door is a wooden desk with a green wheelie chair and in the corner is a decent sized green recliner. Some of the tension eases from Stiles’ shoulders, the openness off the room is calming to his erratic heartbeat. Stepping towards the bed, he sits down on the mattress, finding it surprising comfy, he tries to offer his father a reassuring smile, it helps a little, his father finally uncrosses his arms.

“Breakfast is at eight, you’re encouraged to eat in the dining hall with the other patients, but of course, if you are not up to it, you won’t be punished for not being there.” The nurse explained, Stiles is sure she’d introduced herself but he can’t recall her name. “You will have a private session with Dr Adler at eleven tomorrow and again the day after, there will also be group sessions every Tuesday and Friday. We will ask that you take part in some form of activity, be it arts and crafts, music, gardening, etc. Again you do not have to join in, but it’s better for your recovery if you do, it also shows your counselor you are improving.” 

“There is also a rewards system,” she continued. “You get points so you can use the computers or go with a family member or trusted patient to the café and if you are here more than seven days you can also collect enough points to go see a movie or go the mall, again with a family or friend.” She concluded. “Your physician from the hospital informed us that you are still recovering from your injury so for tonight you’re welcome to take it easy and stay in your room and we won’t hassle you about it.”

“Thank you Michele” John said, moving to sit down next to Stiles on the bed. “I’d like to get him settled in before I head off though, is that alright?”

“Of course” she smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Just remember to tell me when you leave; we’ll be monitoring Stiles closely tonight.”

“Yes, of course and thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.” With one last smile she departs, leaving the room in silence.

“So, are you sure you’re ok with this kiddo?” John asked, reaching out for Stiles’ hand.

“Yeah” his father’s hand is warm in his own; his skin has felt like ice for so long now.  “I just want to get better.”

“Yeah, me too kiddo, me too” he squeezes his hand firmly. “Just remember, you are not alone in this, ok? I’m here for you, so are Scott and Melissa and Derek.” John scrunched his nose up, like he couldn’t believe Derek Hale was now a part of their life. “And Lydia and Jackson, seriously Stiles, when did you become friends with Jackson?” He was trying for a light hearted tone; it wasn’t enough to hide the underlying of hurt. He’d been pushed out of Stiles life for so long now; he didn’t know who his friends were, hell he barely knew Stiles anymore. He wanted to fix that, starting now, there would be more honesty between them so nothing like this would ever happen again.

“Should I help you unpack?”

“Uh, no it’s ok, I can do it.” Looking over to the window he found that night was approaching fast, the golden glow faded away into gloomy shadows. _‘I am safe, their voices are just in my head, nothing can hurt me.’_  He chanted, his hold on his father’s hand unconsciously tightening.

“I’m gonna stay a little longer” John shifted closer, seeing the distant, panicked look in his sons eyes. Doctor Kahlan Adler had told him to watch for these looks; she informed him that often a far-off look could mean emotion turmoil. Be an anchor, she had advised; talk him back from the edge. Assure him that he’s safe, that he’s not alone. “Kiddo, hey, everything’s ok, things are going to start getting better, I promise.”

Slowly, slowly the panic faded from honey brown eyes, awareness replacing the confusion. “Um, yeah, yeah.” Shaking his head to clear away the rest of the fog, Stiles slid off the bed and ventured over to his duffle. “Ok, we’ll unpack.”

He didn’t have much to unload, just some clothes, nothing with strings of course, a few books, toiletries, and a few pairs of socks. He folded his clothes precisely, placed them in the drawers beside his bed, took his toiletries into the small bathroom that didn’t lock and had a special system so the water only reached a certain temperature and went no higher. It also turned off every sixty seconds and the floors were fitted with motion sensors through both rooms, the windows also didn’t unlock or even open for that matter, so he wouldn’t be receiving any late night visitors of the sometimes furry kind. He’d of course been read these details by Lydia; he’d been given a pamphlet on the place, like it was some fancy motel.

With everything put away the room was filled with uncomfortable silence again. He just didn’t know what to say to his dad, he didn’t know what to say at the best of times, even with his new drugs his mind still seemed muddled, thoughts drifting away as soon as he had hold of them. The medication would take time to work, he’d be told, there should be an improvement in at least two to three weeks, four months at the most for the antidepressant, a little longer for the antipsychotic. He was now a pill junky, he was also being given several kinds of vitamins; he would also not be taking Adderall anymore. No, his new friends were amitriptyline, otherwise known as Elavil (the antipsychotic) and Loxapine (his antidepressant.)

Each drug had a list of side effects, because everything has side effects, nothing is ever an easy fix. Both drugs could cause nausea and boy did they ever; he’d thrown up several times after his first dose, he’d been extremely drowsy and somewhat dizzy too, it had been an awful day. The day after he fared a little better, they gave him a dose of Stemetil with his morning pills which helped ease the sickness, he didn’t throw up but he’d still been queasy the rest of the day. He’s stomach wasn’t faring much better today, though with the anti-sickness drug he was managing, he also hadn’t shown any other symptoms, he still knew the list of them though. The decreased libido was especially his favourite.

He was still exhausted, he was asleep by seven, he’d wake up throughout the night but never for very long, it was nice not to stare at the ceiling for hours on end, hearing voices call to him from the dark. Eventually the voices would stop all together; someday soon he wouldn’t have to fake a smile, for now he’ll take this, it a small change, a small step to getting better.

**XxX**

John Stilinski hasn’t felt like such an emotion wreck since his wife was diagnosed with cancer, he feels like the biggest failure, he’s let Catherine down, he was supposed to take care of their son. How could he not notice Stiles behaviour change? It had only taken Derek five minutes to work out something was drastically wrong with him, John was his father, he had no excuse for missing this, any of it. When he’d arrived at the hospital Sunday afternoon he hadn’t known what to expect, Derek’s frantic words kept playing over and over in his mind.

 _I think he’s going to try and kill himself_. He hadn’t wanted to believe him, this was Stiles for Christ sake, the kid was full of life, of joy, how wrong he’d been. The boy in the hospital was not the son he thought he had, there wasn’t even a flicker of the child he raised. His son wouldn’t attempt suicide, he was strong, so much stronger than that, he was his son, he’d been so wrong, he’d been _so blind_. It wasn’t until he’d seen the blood stained bandage on his sons arm did he truly believe that Stiles had done this, that he’d slit his wrist with the pocket knife he’d once bought for him.

He couldn’t deny that he’d been sick; emptying his meals into the kidney dish Melissa had offered him. He couldn’t help but look back and think ‘what if didn’t buy him that stupid thing?’ it wouldn’t change anything, he would have found some way, maybe if he hadn’t had it he might have done something worse, swallowed pills or jumped off a roof. The thought of his son doing any of those things had his stomach rolling, he’d failed, he’d fucked up big time and it was his son’s life on the line. He’d do better, hell he’d give up his job if it meant making his son better again; he’d do anything to fix this.

With a weary sigh and old creaking bones he steps out of Stiles’ jeep, looking up at the house that lonely than ever. When he’d came home a few days ago to collect some clothes for Stiles’ stay in the hospital, he’d found Scott, Lydia, Jackson and Allison huddled in Stiles bedroom, he wasn’t sure how they’d got in but he was honestly glad to have someone here with him. Lydia had been wearing rubber cloves stained red; a large cardboard box had been placed on the bed, filled to the brim with sheets of paper.

He knew what Lydia’s gloves had been stained with, he could smell the bleach in the air, he could never tell her how grateful he was, he didn’t think he could have handled scrubbing his sons blood off the shower walls. Taking a step into the room, he ventured towards the box, Scott quickly stepped in front of him, to stop going any further, looking over his shoulder towards the box he said, ‘it’s best you don’t look in there.’ Taken aback, John had just nodded speechless, muttering about needing some things for Stiles. Lydia smiled knowingly, handing him Stiles’ duffle bag, already packed and ready to go.

Now there was no one to greet him, just a big old, empty house filled with fading memories. A glass of whiskey is what he needed, just one, to settle his nerves. He couldn’t drink away his sorrows, not like he’d done after his wife died, this time he had to pull himself together and be the father Stiles’ deserved. Looking up, he took a sudden step back in surprise; Derek Hale was sitting on his front porch, nursing a stuffed wolf. He couldn’t help but laugh; it was truly an odd sight.

“It’s for Stiles” he rose to his feet; looking awkward “I thought he’d like it.”

Nodding in approval he gave the toy a quick once over, the thing was more like a pillow then a stuffed animal. “He’ll love it.”

“Great” Derek smiled, he almost beamed. More was going on between him and his son then he knew, he remembered what that smile meant, his wife used to smile that way all the time. “Did he… uh settle in ok?” The kid scuffs his shoe against the ground, hunching his shoulders like he’s terrified of being here.

“I’m not going to shoot you, kid” John stated. “I’m not sure what is going on between you and my son, but I know that without you, I might have lost him.” His words are choked off; Derek unconsciously hugs the wolf to his chest. John hadn’t thought about what Derek had been through, he’d looked after Stiles while he was on the edge of darkness, seeing Stiles in the hospital had been bad enough but Derek,  _Derek_  had found him, his life slowly draining away. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll fix you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure, thank you.”

John opened the door, motioned for Derek to go in first, he just said ‘after you sir,’ he was making it really hard to not like him. Rolling his eyes, John crossed the threshold, flicking switches on as he led the way to the kitchen. With two glasses of whiskey in hand, he sat down at the kitchen table, he felt like he’d been running a marathon ever since he saw Stiles, so pale and fragile, in that hospital bed. Derek sat down; taking the drink he was offered, smiling a thank you. The stuffed wolf was lying on the table, staring at John through marble eyes.

“So, did everything go ok at the hospital?” The alcohol swished around in the glass as Derek titled it left to right. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday, is he getting any better?” He sounded so hopeful, like all it would take to get Stiles well again was a few days rest and some brand new pills.

“The nausea has lessened, thankfully.” God how he hated seeing his son suffer, the poor kid spent a whole day throwing up into a kidney dish, while John watched hopelessly. All he could do was rub his back and try and soothe him the best he could. “The psychiatric hospital wasn’t as horrible as I had anticipated. I still don’t really like the idea of leaving him there, but I’m not sure he’ll be safe here; I just can’t risk his life. I need him to be safe.”

“I would have stayed with him” Derek revealed, “I wouldn’t let him hurt himself again.”

A tired smile graced the sheriff’s aging face. “You’re a good kid, Derek.” Taking a swig from his drink, he falls back against his chair in exhaustion. “This is for the best, it’s only temporarily though, when he gets out I’ll need plenty of eyes on him, so if you’re in it for the long haul, I’ll trust you with him, but I need you to swear to me that you won’t leave, because I don’t think he could handle that.”

The nervousness to Derek vanished, he straightened up, squaring his shoulders and puffed out his chest, like a soldier ready for battle, then again this was going to be a fight, a long and difficult one. “I swear I’ll be here for him. I am not going anywhere, not now… not after…” he trails off, a stubborn look crosses his face. “You have my word.”

The sheriff knows something has been left unspoken, maybe one day Derek will tell him or he’ll figure it out himself, for now he is just grateful to have his company and support.

**XxX**

Stiles woke to the sound of rain, his room is so dark he would think it was still night if not for the clock on his nightstand telling him it’s ten past eight. His sleep had been disturbed by vivid dreams, not quiet the horrific nightmares that have plagued him night after night for months, but bizarre, senseless ones. Everything was topsy-turvy, he’d be in one place only to find himself somewhere else moments later, it was common for his new medication to cause strange dreams, he’d take these over the nightmares that still haunted him.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d seen his friends killed in front of him, or found their lifeless bodies in a number of gruesome ways. Sometimes he’d wake up, tangled in his sheets, shivering from a cold sweat, and believing that Scott had been cut into two, Lydia and Allison had been torn apart, his father had been shot down and Derek had slowly died of wolfsbane poisoning. It was just in his head though, the voices telling him he was weak, pathetic, were not there, not really.

He falls back asleep with his mantra playing over and over in his head like a broken record. He doesn’t dream this time, it’s nice, peaceful, until he is woken not long after by a nurse bringing him breakfast. Blinking the fog from his eyes Michele’s friendly smile comes into focus; her bright brown eyes remind him of his mothers. Sitting up seems harder than it should, he feels heavy, limbs like jelly, he’s weak, he’s  _pathetic._  Michele wheels the tray table over to the bed and reveals a plate of pancakes, bagels, a few fruits and a box of cereal.

“After breakfast, if you’re feeling up to it, we’re doing arts and crafts” she mentioned. “If you decide to go, just let me know and I’ll show the way, ok?”

“Yeah, ah thanks.” He won’t go, drawing a picture or making a scrapbook isn’t going to help, there is a war inside his mind and something so trivial isn’t going to help.

“And we can’t forget these” she handed him a paper cup, Stiles takes it from her and swallows all three pills with a mouthful of apple juice that was sitting on his tray. “Excellent, well I’ll let you eat and I’ll be back shortly to check on you.” Michele gives him one last reassuring smile then departs, Stiles stared down at his food, he’s not hungry, food doesn’t appeal to him, nothing does, well maybe  _someone_  does.

Forcing the thoughts away, taking a tentative bite of the bagel, he finds it more tolerable then the hospital food. Nibbling is all he can manage, food feels too heavy in his stomach, he just doesn’t have the energy to eat much. He succumbs to sleep not long after, again he finds himself facing a world of monsters, they are faceless creatures who stalk his every move, reaching out of the shadows to drag him into the darkness. He fights and he fights, there isn’t an inch of him that isn’t bruised and bloody, he’s about to let them take him, to give in and just be done with it, when a powerful roar has the monsters cowering in fear.

Out of the darkness, Derek appears, then the world comes crashing back around him as he startled awake by gentle prodding. Wide panicked eyes lock with soft lavender ones, Doctor Adler calms him down with soothing words, telling him to just breathe. With his breathing under control they can begin their session, he is nervous as hell, they haven’t really exchanged more than a few words. She’d been able to diagnose him with his condition mainly off what Derek had told her. He’d never been mad at Derek for talking to her,  _they_ had been furious, they weren’t fucking real, what he felt for Derek was, he loved him, he didn’t care if  _they_  said he made him weak.

_They weren’t real._

Doctor Kahlan Adler, as it turns out, is loving, kind woman, who is more interested in helping people rather than just stuffing them full of pills and sending them on their way. She starts with basic questions, ‘how do you feel, how did you sleep, what do you want to get out of your stay here?’ He answers in a monotone voice, he is still so God damn tired, the voices are yelling at him to shut up, he won’t be silent anymore. He goes on to tell her about his nightmares, what they taunt him with, she listens to everything he has to say and she doesn’t call him crazy or weak. She tells him it will get better, it will take time but the voices will stop, it’s always darkest before the dawn.

After her visit, Stiles showers, crawls back into bed and begins reading the first Harry Potter novel for the third time. Eventually he drifts off to sleep, book still open on his chest, the rest of the morning is spent in peaceful darkness. When he is next woken, at quarter past twelve it’s by Derek, he’s looking down at through worried eyes, holding a stuffed wolf tightly in his arms. Springing up, he catches Derek off-guard with a kiss, throwing his arms around his neck to bring him closer, closer, closer.

Breaking free, he takes the stuffed wolf, cuddling it to his chest as he flops back down onto the bed. Derek is just standing there, looking like he’s not sure what the hell just happened, Stiles just grins lopsidedly, bows his head and hides his face in the wolf’s fur. Whispering ‘I love you, I love, I love you, I love you’ until the darkness takes him. The next couple of days go by the same, sleep, attempt to eat, sleep, kiss Derek when no one's looking, sleep, tell the voices to shut up.

Saturday morning brings the sun; his room is lit in a warm glow and for the first time since he arrived he actually feels like leaving his room. Maybe it’s the medication kicking in or Doctor Alder’s presence, or maybe it’s Derek, asking him to think about getting up in the morning, promising to bring him curly fries if he does. Scott is coming to see him in the afternoon, he hadn’t been allowed to see anyone but his father for the first few days, but his dad had somehow arranged for Derek to be let in. So if it wasn’t Derek sitting with him, watching over him, it was his father, who’d send worried glances his way and have hushed conversations with the nurses.

Getting out of bed, throwing on a warm coat and a pair of socks, he tip-toes out into the hallway, Michele beams at him from behind the desk. She leads him towards the end of the hall, which seemed to go on for miles; maybe it’s just his tired legs that make the trip seem further than it actually is. At the end of the walkway is a large brightly lit dining hall, there are about a dozen or so wooden tables in neat rows, a buffet, like what you’d see in the school cafeteria, is filled with a variety of foods. Five minutes later he pulls a seat out at an empty table and sits down with his tray; he takes a sip of tea and picks at his croissant.

“Hi, mind if we sit with you?”

Stiles looked up to see a teenage girl with fiery red hair, a cheeky smile and he certainly heard a British accent. The girl next to her his tall and thin, painfully thin to be honest, she has long wavy hair, piercing blue eyes and looks like Ellen Pompeo’s lost sister. They are both beautiful, even in his state he can’t avoid noticing. “Sure.”

“Great” The redhead says, pulling out a chair for herself and her friend. “I’m Echo Queen: PTSD” she extends her hand, Stiles shakes it weakly, a “and this is my girlfriend Audrey Greyson: Recovering anorexic.” Audrey offers her hand, Stiles take it, he feels like he might crush it to dust it’s so bony. “And you are?”

“Ah… Stiles Stilinski” he replied hesitantly “…psychotic depression.”

“Oh wow, so you’re like completely mental” Echo exclaimed, taking a spoonful of yogurt.

“Echo” Audrey frowned, sending an apologetic look Stiles way as she said. “She has no brain-to-mouth filter.”

“You love me anyway” smiling slyly, Echo placed a blueberry muffin onto Audrey’s tray. “We’re going to arts and crafts after; would you like to join us?”

“Um, I guess.”

“Great” Echo beams “you’ll get points for going as well, now that the suns out you might even get to go outside. With a family member or one of us” she gestures between herself and Audrey, who is still nibbling away on her muffin.

“Um, thank you” Stiles tries to smile, to sound grateful, he really does, it’s just so hard. It’s like he’s heartbroken and grief-stricken all rolled into one, he’s been drowning, sinking down, down, down into the darkness for months, he’s trapped at the bottom suspended in misery and he can’t really see a way out. He’ll take his meds, he’ll talk to Doctor Adler and he’ll go to arts and crafts with Echo and Audrey, he’ll do it all, he’ll try anything to escape this hell, he just doubts he’ll find a way out. Maybe in the end, he will just let _them_ consume him completely.

**XxX**

Weak, pathetic, useless, not strong enough, not good enough, not attractive enough, liar, worthless, human; Scott scrunches up every piece paper that Stiles had scribbled. They’d been amongst the chaos he had pinned to his wall. He throws them into the bin with unnecessary force, the words taint his tongue and burn his eyes, how could Stiles believe he was any of those things? How had Scott not noticed Stiles slipping away from him, from everyone? How could he just miss the fact that Stiles had psychotic depression, he’d gone mental, he tried to kill himself and if Derek hadn’t been there… God he doesn’t even what to think about it, the mere thought has bile rising in his throat.

Wiping angrily at his tears he continues to fish around in the box he’d bought back from Stiles’ house, he didn’t want the sheriff to see it, it was too much for _him,_ let alone Stiles’ father. It was disturbing, terrifying, pages and pages of death and monsters, a photo of a loved one here and there, confused thoughts jotted down amongst the news articles and stories ripped from books. Derek had told Scott that Stiles thought this was telling him… telling him he was going to die.

Scott didn’t see the message, it made absolutely no sense to him, he just wanted to burn it, burn it all, but he felt compelled to go through it, in a bitter attempt to understand what was happening in Stiles’ broken mind. With a sigh of frustration, Scott threw a handful papers at the bin, most of them landed on the floor; he ignored them in favour of flopping back on his bed. In a few more minutes he was meant to go see Stiles and he’d never been so afraid.

Which was stupid, he knew that, Stiles had been his best friend for years, it’s just that he didn’t know what to say or how to act, at least the last few times he’d been with Allison and Lydia and Stiles had mostly just been asleep. So what was he supposed to say to the best friend he failed? Who was hearing voices and seeing his death amongst a mess of papers and pictures. Somebody please tell him how he is supposed to make this better? There are no magic words or quick fix for this and even if there were, it would be Stiles who’d find it in the first place.

Stiles was more important than he knew and really they should have told him so, Scott should have fucking told him he was the best friend anyone could ever have. He wasn’t worthless or pathetic, he wasn’t any of those things, he was strong and brave, kind and caring and yeah sometimes he had bad qualities but so did everyone. Derek Hale anybody? He has an idea! He springs up from the bed, hurrying to his desk; it takes no more than three minutes to complete his plan, grinning, he runs out of the house with hope in his heart.

Beacon Hills Psychiatric Hospital isn’t as scary as Scott thought it would be, he couldn’t help but think of a haunted asylums and imagined Stiles locked away in a tiny cell with a metal cot for a bed. This wasn’t a haunted asylum, it was somewhere between a hospital and a nursing home, it was actually alright, now he didn’t have to stage a breakout, which he was fully willing to do. Reaching Stiles room, he finds his best friend huddled up in a recliner, clinging to an oversized stuffed toy wolf. It breaks his heart to see him this way, this isn’t how he should be, he should be bouncing around from taking too much Adderall and talking obsessively about Lydia or werewolves or some movie he’s just watched.

“Hey Stiles” Scott announced himself, walking over to his friend, who hasn’t even startled. “That’s a cute wolf, who got him for you?” Ok, so he sounded like he was speaking to a child but he was trading carefully here, this was uncharted territory.

“Derek” Stiles looked up; sorrowful eyes boring into Scott’s. “I love him.”

“Yeah, he’s nice” he was talking about the wolf right? Not Derek Hale, the actually werewolf. “Uh I made you something” Scott is about retrieve the piece of paper from his jacket pocket when Stiles suddenly flies out of the chair and over to the bed, where he sits back down and continues hugging the wolf like it’s his lifeline.

“I made something to” he nodded towards the desk.

Scott goes over to it, picking up the drawing that was lying face down, turning it over to reveal a beautiful hand drawn black wolf, it has bright red eyes that remind him of Derek’s, it stands on a cliff, a full moon hanging over it in the night sky. “This is good. Did you draw it?”

“Audrey and Echo helped.”

“Oh, are they… your friends?” Scott felt really bad, but he didn’t understand what Stiles had, even though Lydia had given everyone a Wikipedia page on it, he just hadn’t had time to read it fully. So he didn’t know if Echo and Audrey were real or in his head, besides, what kind of name was Echo?

“Yeah” is the only answer he gets.

“Right, well” clearing his throat he smooths out the piece of paper he’d folded up, over and over. “So I noticed, well I, us, we cleaned your room up and I found this stuff.” He paused, Stiles is staring blankly at him, he feels slightly unnerved “Well you had this wall of things, and I saw you’d written all these horrible things about yourself, so I thought…” looking down at the paper, he takes a deep breathe, he just wants to make that look in Stiles eyes go away. “I made you a list of positive things that I think about you.”

“Ok, here we go:” Scott continues” you are brave, really smart, totally badass at video games, the best researcher like, ever, the best friend anyone could ask for and I love you, so please be-” a choked off sob cut Scott short, looking up he found himself staring at Stiles’ tear streaked face. “Stiles, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I am doing; I just want to make you better.”

“You can’t, Scott” he sobbed. “It’s such a mess in here” he points to his head with a shaky finger “I tried making them go away, tried making them quiet and the only time I found peace was when I held that blade in my hand.”

Scott felt sick, this wasn’t how this was meant to go, God what was happening, how did he fix it? “Stiles, no, you will get better, we’ll help you.” He doesn’t know if he believes his own words but he has to try, he just wants Stiles to stop crying.

“Then end it for me Scott” Stiles is pleading and Scott is torn between staying and running away. “Please, please.”

He stays, of course he stays. Walking calmly over to his best friend he sits down beside him and heaves him onto his lap, Stiles shouldn’t be this light. He thinks back to the times when Stiles slept over after his mother died and he’d wake from a nightmare, crying for a mother he no longer had. Scott would hold him; sometimes sing to him until he succumbed to sleep. “It’s going to get better Stiles, I will make it better” he promised. “You’re strong, brave, smart, funny, kind, caring.” Scott rocked them back in forwards, whispering the same seven words over and over until Stiles has passed out in his arms.

**XxX**

Scott went to Derek with a plan, they team up, take down the alphas and as a pack they fix Stiles. Derek’s tried to get Scott to join his pack since the very beginning, he’s shown him that it’s safer, that they’re stronger together; he never wanted them to be reunited this way. Coming together so they can fix the one person they both hold closest to them wasn’t what Derek would ever use against Scott as a means get him to join his pack, he’d rather be persisting him to join then knowing it’s for Stiles sanity.

Scott is pack now, he’s going to persuade Lydia and Jackson to join as well and they are going to take down the alphas. It won’t be as easy as that, they have an old spell to link the alpha pack together; they need their blood for it to work. It’s a suicide mission. It’s not going to stop them; they will fight tooth and nail, giving it their all until they are dead. Until Stiles has a safe place to call home, until they all have a safe place to call home.

At the end of the day that’s what it’s all really about, making sure that Stiles can be fixed and that he can stay fixed. He’s already trapped in a world full of monsters, sees them coming out of the darkness to claim him, at least Scott and Derek can destroy the ones they can see. Filled with courage and strength he hasn’t felt since he saw his family home crumbling to ash, he gets out of the Camaro and walks towards the Stilinski house, empty and cold, in need of warmth and love.

If Derek is going to go to war then he’s going to have something,  _someone_  to fight for. Everyone will be fighting for Stiles’ safety but Derek is fighting for his heart. He’ll fix the creaks in his mind with tender kisses, he’ll whisper ‘I love you’ and the voices will float away, in return his own heart will come rushing back to life, fire will relight his soul just as it had diminished it. First he has to own trust, a right to be in Stiles’ life, there is only one man who Derek has to face.

Knocking rapidly at the door, listening for approaching footsteps, Derek channels all his newfound strength into this one conversation. He’s never done this before, he didn’t have to ask Kate’s father if he could take her out or even worry about meeting her parents, she was older than him; she was using him. Derek was not Kate, Stiles was not that sixteen year old kid he used to be, this wasn’t history repeating. Stiles would sweat and bleed and give it all to protect Derek. He’d do the same; this was a new story being written, one with monsters and madness. It would have a happy ending; he’d make damn sure of it.

The sheriff opened the door, the smell of stress and fatigue taints the air, are a bad taste in Derek’s mouth. He is worn out, clothes wrinkled like they have been slept in, dark bags under his eyes and the smell of whiskey on his breath. Under it all is a glint of determination in his eyes; it just needs fanning into a spark. Allowing Derek into the house he tells him about how Stiles has had another episode, Scott had already told Derek all this, but he listened and nodded along anyway.

“What are they going to do with him?” Derek asked, voice a strained whisper.

“Doctor Adler will increase his meds tomorrow, I’ll be going to see him every day, screw work, I need to focus on my son.” He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face and tangled his fingers in his hair, something Stiles did when he was stressed. “These are too be expected though, so she said, they are psychotic episodes and they will happen less and less over the coming weeks and eventually they will stop all together.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Derek inquired, sounding hopeful, a few more weeks and the pack would have their Stiles back. Derek would have  _his_  Stiles back.

“Yeah, might take some more work and a lot of patience” draining his glass, the sheriff turned his gaze towards the window. “So, did you just call in to check in or is there something else you want to know? Since if you wanted to see Stiles you would have gone to the hospital so I imagine you’re here to see me.” He turned his gaze back toward Derek, a knowing smile on his aging face. This man can read people like a book, there is so much of him in his son; it makes Derek smile inwardly.

“I need to explain what happened last weekend,” chewing his lip nervously he added. “All of what happened.”

Narrowing his eyes, John crossed his arms over his chest and leant back in the chair. “Go on.”

It’s a hard story to tell, Derek has lived every moment of that weekend over and over, can still hear Stiles’ broken cries and confused rants echo in his mind, can feel the linger of his lips against his own. There is so much to be said, so much pain to relive that Derek has to blink away tears and swallow the lump in his throat. The sheriff doesn’t look all that surprised when he retells of the kiss, there is a slight frown of disappointment when Derek said ‘and I kissed back’ but it could all just be in his head.

He can’t look the man in the eyes when he said “later on that evening, he said to me, I just want to feel something, I didn’t know what I was supposed to say or do so I just asked what he wanted” swallowing hard, forcing himself to look Stilinski in the eyes. “He asked me to kiss him, so I did.”

There a few moments of silence, thick with tension, Derek listened for the sound of a heart rising in anger but other than a few uneven beats it is steady, he waits and waits. Finally John poured himself another drink, Derek frowned, Stiles would not like this. John swished the ember liquid around thoughtfully, like it will reveal a situation to this problem. “Do you have feelings for my son?”

Yes, he cared for him more than he had ever cared for anyone, he ached when he was away from him, longed to be reunited and he’d only just noticed. How could he have been so blind? “Yes.”

“So you want to date my son?”

“Yes.” Date him, love him, adore him, protect him, treasure him, he wanted to do it all.

“Do you want to have sex with my underage son?”

Derek choked, flushing bright red. He’d not been expecting that, he really should have though; this was the sheriff he was talking to. He didn't know what answer to give, because no would be a lie. Of course he wanted to have sex with Stiles, to kiss every inch of his pale skin, trace every mole and draw moans of pleasure from him, have him arch underneath him, wanting more, desperate for more. He’d never to anything without Stiles’ consent; he’d wait for Stiles to be ready. He was not Kate; he would not force himself on Stiles like she had him.

“Is there a right answer to that question?” he hoped that would satisfy the sheriff, it was the best answer he could give. “I’d never do anything to hurt him or push him to do something he wasn't ready for.”

John nodded, leaning forwards to rest against the table. “You know, dating him isn't going to be easy, especially now that he’s got depression, you’ll have to be patient and understanding.”

“Of course, I understand that, I can handle it sir” he affirmed.

Taking a deep breath, one last swing of whiskey, John caved in. “Fine, I’ll let you date Stiles. You seem like a good guy, Derek, but there will be rules. One: be discreet, I am the sheriff, so it won’t exactly set a good example to others if you two get caught out. Two: You will not be having sex with my son until he is legal. Three: you will not be alone with him unless I give the all clear, understand?”

Derek nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“And four, I own a gun,” he added “so if you hurt him in any way I will not hesitate to use it.”

“I won’t hurt him” Derek vowed. “ _I won’t_.”

**XxX**

Days crawl by slowly, getting colder and colder as summer bleeds into winter, the nights grow longer and the days grow shorter. Time is almost on a standstill inside these walls, time really has no meaning, it doesn’t matter what day it is. Most days feel the same; wake up, take meds, eat, then arts and crafts or group therapy or a long walk through the gardens, someone trailing behind. Slowly, ever so slowly the days start to get clearer; the fog lifting from a tired mind. It’s like waking up from hibernation, the world coming back to him piece by piece; a glimmer of light in the darkness. For the first time in a long while Stiles sees hope on the horizon, it’s a welcomed sight.

Without the constant haze clouding his mind he can really start to open up, he can retell stories and twist and turn them so there is no mention of werewolves, just a normal boy who feels he’s being left behind. Just a normal boy who was taken by some jocks who decided to use him as a punching bag, just a normal boy who witnessed a mass murder at the very place his father worked. Well, that what’s it looked like in someone else’s eyes, in truth he was the boy who ran with wolves, who was taken by hunters and battled monsters, real monsters, not the imaginary voices that were now just a whisper in the back of his mind.

It felt like it had been a lifetime since he had had a quiet mind, no racing thoughts crashing around, a nervous leg twitching or hands gesturing wildly. The hyper boy he used to be was gone, maybe it was never really him to begin with or maybe he still had miles to go before he could be that boy again. Really though, he’d lost that boy a long time ago, maybe it was when Gerard took him and beat him black and blue or perhaps it was long before then, when he found Lydia lying unconscious on the lacrosse field or when Scott tried to kill him.

It didn’t really matter when or where it happened, it mattered that it had happened, that Stiles was different now.  He had a scar on his wrist and a war in his mind. He was fighting back, he could actually see now that things would get better, he’d get better.  _It was going to be ok_. Not today, today was he was just a mix of emotions, but someday soon he’d be happy, he’d smile and he’d kiss Derek without voices screaming at him to stop. He can tell them to shut up now and it feels good, it feels really fucking good.

He has become close friends with Echo and Audrey. They are currently sitting outside under the shade of a tree lazing about on this peaceful afternoon. Echo Queen is smart, caring and funny and someone really hurt her, they broke her. Echo is the picture of strength and courage, Audrey calls her a Phoenix, not because of the fiery red hair but because she rose from the ashes, more alive than ever. Audrey is beauty, wisdom and will; she is a goddess, a force not to be reckoned with. In the summer Audrey had started skipping meals, then she stopped eating, her mother was cold and selfish, forcing her daughter to fulfil the dreams she failed to make come true for herself long ago.

Together they were three very different people, all broken in very different ways, together they were better, all those jiggered edges fitting together just right. Audrey and Echo would not give up on Stiles, they had their own wars to fight but there would be no soldiers left behind. Speaking of war, he wondered how life was going on outside this place, he might as well be on island; he felt so very far away from the people he loved, from the one man he longed for.

He last saw Scott ten days ago, Lydia and Allison stopped by twice in the last week and his father stopped by once or twice a day, staying for hours or just a few minutes. Someone he hadn’t seen, the one person he wanted to see above anyone else, hadn’t stopped by for eight days. When he last saw Derek he hadn’t been as clear minded as he was today, the darkness had still had its razor sharp claws embedded in his skin. So when Derek said he might not be able to stop by as much he thought that was it, Derek didn’t love, Derek was leaving him.

He’d cried himself to sleep that night, didn’t leave his bed until Echo and Audrey snuck in late in the afternoon, they didn’t ask him any questions, they simply climbed into his bed and held him until the pain in his chest eased. They had been inseparable ever since. With the wind ruffling fingers through his hair, Audrey and Echo anchoring him to this world he can think, he can unravel Derek’s words and find the truth in them. His werewolf was not abandoning him, he was fighting for him.  _They all were_. They had the spell, they had everything they needed, he knew this now, remembered that Scott and the gang had gone away to get the ingredients. War, it was going on everywhere, Stiles just hoped the pack could win theirs.

“Hey Stiles, what happened to Derek?”

Turning to Echo, he could see her nodding her head to the right, following her gaze he saw Derek strolling toward them. He looked horrible, black and blue bruises married his face, he held his left arm stiff against his side, Stiles felt sick. Ignoring Audrey and Echo’s concerned glances he rushed over to meet Derek half way, cupping his face between trembling hands, breathing in the familiar scent of forest. Derek just smiled that true honest smile that was just for Stiles. Forcing back a sob, he threw his arms around him, holding him tight to his chest, as if he’d disappear at any moment.

“You got them, right?” he choked out “please tell me they’re gone.”

Warm arms encircle him, lips whisper against the shell of his ear, breath sending chills down his spine. “We got them, they’re gone,” a kiss to his cheek, arms holding on tight in the promise of never letting go. “We’re safe,  _we’re safe._ ”

Stepping back Stiles took Derek’s hand and led him over to where Audrey and Echo are waiting nervously for his return. “He got into a car crash” Stiles lied. He really wished he didn’t have to, he wanted to bring Audrey and Echo into the fold, maybe when he and Derek got some time alone he’d ask for permission to tell them. “He’s such a reckless driver.”

“It was the other person’s fault” Derek added light-heartedly, squeezing Stiles hand, giving him a secret smile.

“They all say that” Audrey said, resting her head on Echo’s thigh “Sit, it’s nice here.”

“Plenty of room” Echo added, fingers entangling in Audrey’s dark brown hair. “It’s the  _love_  rug.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon huddled together under the setting sun. It felt right, these four broken people, with their jiggered edges fitting together just right.

**Three weeks later**

Stiles is going home today. He’s feeling much better, no voices telling him that he is useless,  _pathetic_ , weak, he can finally think,  _breathe_. He still doesn’t feel like the boy he used to be, it’s ok though, this new version of him has a grip on things, well, is getting a grip on things, it will take some time for him to feel a hundred percent. He still has bad days, not the normal angsty teenager bad days but the bleak heaviness of depression bad days. There are still moments where he can hear a whisper or feel tremble of fear in his veins. It’s going to take time, a lot of it and he still has to see Kahlan Adler every two weeks before moving it to monthly. He will be on his medication for the rest of his life and over time his body could get used to the drugs and he could fall back into the darkness, but he’d worry about that later though.

It was time to embrace life again, return to being the researcher of the pack, maybe continue with his magic studies; start dating Derek Hale. That was what he was most excited about, how could he not be? He’d been slowly falling in love with Derek since the day they met in the forest. He now knows that Derek doesn’t make him weak, Derek makes him strong; it’s why the monsters in his head hated him so much. When Derek was around he pulled him out of the darkness, chasing away the voices.

He isn’t sure how that is possible, since it’s taken serious amounts of medication and therapy to be able to get through the day without having a total breakdown. Maybe it’s a werewolf thing or maybe it’s just a Derek thing, he doesn’t care, he’s found his anchor. Shouldering his bag and tucking Balto (yes, of course he named him that) under his arms along with his pillow he headed out to where his father was filling out forms at the nurses’ station.

He has a few goodbyes to say, he’s made some good friends here, met truly remarkable people. He’s glad Audrey and Echo have already been released, Echo going home to her loving family and Audrey to her father, who was divorcing her mother to keep the cold hearted woman away from his daughter. He’ll be seeing them again though, they have group meetings twice a week for the first two months and they already have plans to hang out at each other’s houses. It’s a friendship that rose out of the darkness, three shattered souls finding each other and making a whole.

“I’ll miss you Stiles” Michele engulfed him in a crushing hug; he patted her on the back with his free arm. “Hope I won’t be seeing you anytime soon.”

Stiles chuckled; yes he could laugh again, “Back at ya, Michele.”

He said goodbye to a few more nurses and patience, turning last to face Kahlan Adler, her smile is kind as always, eyes full of love. “I’ll see you in a few days” she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace. “Call us if you need someone to talk to, ok?” Pulling back to stare at him level Stiles nodded in conformation “Keep strong, Stiles.”

“I will” he vowed.

It’s strangely sad to leave this place, it has been his home for the past month, it’s almost frightening to go back into the real world. Taking a deep breathe he stepped out into the warm midday sun, his beloved jeep parked only few feet away. He could do this, he was free of the darkness, of the monsters that very nearly took his life, he is free and he is determined. If he falls, if he stumbles, he has his dad, his friends, new and old, Kahlan Adler and most importantly he has Derek. He may not be at the top of the mountain yet but there are plenty of hands to stop him from sliding back down.

He won’t be seeing Derek or the rest of the pack today, his father has claimed him all to himself, Stiles is fine with it; he’s missed his dad, so much. Nimble fingers trace over the faint pink scar, he’d started feeling guilty about a week ago, hating that he’d done this to his friends,  _to his dad_. With he’s new resolution to open up to people more often, he spoke to his father one evening during a visit, confessing his guilt. His father had taken both his frail hands into his own worn ones, squeezing tight.

“Don’t feel guilty, son” he had said “I should have seen the warning signs, been there for you more” he’d shaken his head, leaning in to kiss his sons forehead. “Things will be different for now on; we’re going to be more open and honest with each other, ok?” Stiles nodded a yew, grasping his father’s hands tighter “I am going to be home more and when are going to do more things together, bowling, fishing, movies, whatever you want; we’ll spend more time together.”

Stiles had engulfed him in an enormous hug, deciding then and there that there would be no more lies or half-truths, as soon as something else supernatural cropped up he’d tell his dad what was really going on. It was too soon to tell his dad about werewolves, Stiles was going to have to probably get Derek to tell him that one, it would be rather hard to believe a person with psychotic depression and oh look his humour is slowly trickling back.

“So I have a surprise for you.”

Startled from his thoughts, looking to his father he could see a lazy grin on his face. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see.”

Next thing Stiles knew they were pulling up at Scott’s work, of course Scott was at school so that’s obviously not the surprise. “First you leave me at a mental home now you’re abandoning me at the animal shelter?”

Throwing back his head John let out a deep chortle; it’s good to hear him laugh, to know he can make him laugh again. “It’s good to see you better, son.”

Stiles smiled, a little sadly, because he can’t promise he’ll be able to crack jokes every day, he can’t promise that tomorrow he will wake up in the same mood or even still have a smile at the end of the day. There will be a lot of ups and downs and he is about to tell his father this (open and honest remember) when that smiles faltered a little, of course his dad knew this already. He can at least make his dad enjoy the good days, hours, moments.

“Right, so” the door is opened, cool air seeping in. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

“I have a feeling I am going to like this surprise” Stiles said, jumping out of the jeep and rushing around to his father.

“Yeah, you will” the sheriff beamed.

They enter the building, it still looked the same, still smelt the same yet it felt like years since he’d been here. Alan Deaton appeared from out the back, in that slightly creepy mysterious way that he does, gesturing for them to follow him. Buzzing with excitement Stiles practically skipped across the floor to meet him out the back, where the dogs are barking loudly. They settle as Deaton glides by them, whistling softly to them and one by one they fall silent.

“Here she is” Deaton Has stopped at a cage that is separate from the rest, Stiles can’t see inside since it has a deep violet blanket tossed over it. Deaton reached and a moment later there is a tiny chocolate brown Labrador pup, with bright brown eyes, in his arms, a pretty pink tongue licking at the vet’s face. “She came in a few days ago, her and siblings were left abandoned in the woods” offering her to Stiles he takes the wiggling pup into his arms, holding her close to his chest, breathing in that adorable puppy smell.

“Thank you” is all he can say, he’s in awe over the tiny pup, which is happily licking his chin and neck.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder, “Well you’ve always wanted a dog and Kahlan thought it would be a good idea.”

Spinning to face his dad he gives him a warm smile “Thank you dad.”

“Anything for you, kiddo” he ruffed his hair, the pup snuggled into his chest “Anything for you.”

**XxX**

Stiles bedroom is different, it’s not a drastic change but it’s noticeable. Surveying the place he noticed that his skull collection is gone, they have been replaced by a range of photo frame in white and shades of blue and orange; photos have been put in a few, some old and some new, the empty ones have sticky notes; ‘for future memories’ has been written on them in Allison’s neat handwriting. There are no random objects or stray pieces of paper littering his desk or shelves, everything is stacked and arranged neatly, pristine even, Lydia’s handiwork he assumed.

A giant whiteboard has been placed between his bed and dresser, it has Monday to Sunday charted on it already, Stiles is guessing it’s so he can plan his days ahead of time. Just another thing Kahlan Adler wants him to do, along with continuing to write in his journal and carrying on with his art. His days should be filled with friends and activities and in another week or so he would be returning to school, it was time to start living again. In all honesty it seemed a frightful thought, returning to school, the outside world, he’d been so lost in his mind that he’s almost forgotten what it’s like out here.

Looking at his dad, relief in his eyes, tension finally gone his shoulders, Stiles felt some of the fear fade, he wasn’t alone, he was never alone in the first place. So if he was scared or the world got too loud, too big, he had a loving father and great friends to protect him from it all. Letting out a long sigh, Stiles carefully lowers his new puppy to the ground, she immediately started sniffing, it’s a good thing he thought to let her wonder around the lawn first since the last thing he needs is a piss-stained carpet.

“What are you going to call her?” his father inquired.

“Milo” he replied, taking his things from his dad and setting them down the bed, his stuffed wolf taking pride on his pillows. “I think it’s fitting considering her colour.”

“Sounds good to me, son” John is watching Stiles carefully as he unpacked the suitcase, Stiles pretended not to notice the eyes on his back. “So, I should go make us some lunch, if you’re ok to unpack by yourself.”

Smiling fondly, Stiles walked over to his father and embraced him in a tight hug. “I’m ok dad, really.”

The rest of the day goes by rather fast, growing colder and colder as the sun sinkers lower into the sky. It’s been a pretty good day for Stiles, he’s kept himself quite busy by unpacking, texting the pack as well as Echo and Audrey. While Milo is sleeping he checks his emails and spends two hours on the internet catching up with all that he’s missed, sends a lot of texts, eats lunch than makes a banana and strawberry smoothie for afternoon tea while thinking about what he can cook for dinner. When Milo wakes up he takes her outside so she will learn that inside is not a toilet, he plays with her until she is worn out and falls asleep on his lap.

When the sun sets, he showers and changes into a pair of sweats and baggy t-shirt, heading downstairs to cook his dad a healthy dinner, God knows what the man has been living on for the past month. The fridge is rather devoid of food so they have lamb chops with freshly made salad and low fat ice-cream for dessert. Milo is awake again now, jumping playfully around their ankles, his father takes her outside this time, Stiles wanders up to his room and writes out a grocery list before starting a new sketch.

By around ten he is curled up in bed, Milo sleeping at his feet, the stuffed wolf wrapped in his embrace, the half-moon night lamp bathing the room in a pale yellow glow. He falls asleep with a smile on his face, with Derek on his mind and hope in his heart.

**XxX**

Around midday Scott arrives with Allison, Stiles has just finished the sketch he’d started lasted night when he hears the doorbell ring Milo sits up, looking around curiously for the source of the noise. Scott can be heard from downstairs, talking enthusiastically about the ‘thing’ they have planned for Stiles; he doesn’t even know Allison is with him until she had appeared in his doorway, smiling kindly at him. Scott seems to materialize beside her, grinning widely, those large brown eyes so full of excitement.

It’s been a long time since they’ve all been in the same place at once, when the alpha’s had been in town Stiles had only seen Allison at school and Scott was running around trying to be a hero and save everyone, when really he had no clue what he was even doing. They had been together yet very apart the last couple of months, it was hard to keep up with Scott, it was dangerous to keep up with Scott, Stiles had stayed on the sidelines, being helpful, yes, but he’d never stepped onto the battlefield.

Somewhere along the way he and Lydia joined forces, then they started working with magic and one lonely day Stiles found the linking spell, a plan was put into motion. Well, well then Stiles started to fall apart, well he’d been falling about for some time so he might as well say he did fall apart, the scar on his wrist is evidence of that. The voices started, the nightmares began to taunt him every time he slept, and monsters began to claw and fight their way out of the darkness and into his life.

Yes, he fall apart, he lost it completely and he isn’t whole yet, he’s getting there though. Jumping up he embraced Scott in a crushing hug, Allison also got one, he didn’t squeeze her as hard though, she might be badass but she was still small.  Allison’s gaze zeroed in on Milo, a huge smile gracing her face, she bent down to ruffle the pup’s ears, she truly looked like a Disney princess. Scott was admiring the sight with a sappy smile and hearts in his eyes, for what it’s worth, Stiles hoped they got back together someday.

“Well we should go” Scott announced, tearing his gaze from Allison for a brief moment “We have a surprise for you.”

“Yes and Lydia will be pissed if we’re late” Allison rose gracefully to her feet, flicking back her coat sleeve to see the time “Which we are, crap. C’mon let’s go.” She grabs hold of Stiles’ wrist and tugs him out of the room, he can hear Scott laughing behind them, he asks Milo if she wants to come too.

John bids them farewell, telling (ordering) that Stiles be home by three, Stiles gives his a dad a hug goodbye and lets him know the grocery list is complete and on his desk. They all climb into Allison’s fathers SUV, Allison driving, Scott ogling her from the passenger seat and Stiles in the back with a hyper puppy on his lap.

“So where are we going?” he doesn’t expect an answer but he asked just the same.

“Somewhere” is Scott’s vague answer.

They ride in silence, apart from the soft background music and Milo’s occasional little bark, it’s a pleasant silence though, the kind that isn’t filled with shouting voices or churning thoughts. Stiles has found peace in his mind, it’s weird, not bad weird but different… he is so used to rushing thoughts and hissing demons that he’s forgotten what it’s like hear silence. It’s a welcome difference, one he will get have to get used to and it’s better than the alternative any day.

Houses slowly fade away to tall towering trees, the smooth road is now littered with bumps, he can’t help but smile; he knows exactly where they are going. A few days before he was discharged from hospital his father had stopped in to have a serious and somewhat awkward chat with him. Derek had told the sheriff everything about That Weekend (yes it needed capitals) confessing that he had feelings for Stiles and practically asking the sheriff for permission to date him, it was sweet of him really, Stiles wouldn’t have known how to even approach the subject. He was sure his father would much rather lock him away in some tower like Rapunzel then let him start dating after all of this.

He had the world’s best dad though, so with his blessing he was allowed to date Derek Hale. There had been rules, of course there had to be rules which were all reasonable and then there was the awkward sex talk Stiles knew was coming. So his dad had braved the big bad world of the internet and did his homework, which meant everything was just that much more awkward and seriously, Stiles was curious by nature he already knew all of it anyway.

The thing about sex though, was that Stiles had a serious lack of desire for it. He hadn’t even woken up with a boner in a few weeks; sadly that was the downside to his meds. He’d been really angry about it at first, he is seventeen for Christ sake and he suddenly doesn’t have the urge for sex? It wasn’t right, how were he and Derek supposed to work if he couldn’t satisfy his needs. He’d worked himself into a right state by the time Echo and Audrey found him, they talked for hours after that, calming him down enough to see reason.

Since he was seventeen and Derek was twenty-three, the law (his father) would have a problem if they did start having sex so a not-horny Stiles might actually be a good thing, for the time being anyway, he’d find some way to get his libido increased when the time was right. For now the forest had cleared to reveal the burnt remains of the Hale mansion, the front veranda has been decorated with balloons, streamers and a colourful ‘Welcome Home’ banner.

Everyone is there, even Peter, the front lawn is now home to a large table that is covered with a parade of delicious looking foods. Everyone greets him with a hug, telling how much they missed him and how happy they are that he’s home again. Lydia ushers everyone to the table, she seats Stiles next right next to Derek, who is at the head of the table since he is the alpha, she winked at Stiles as she walked away, of course she knew they had feelings for each other, she was Lydia Martin after all.

The food is even more delicious then Stiles first expected, the day is full of chatter and birdsong, Milo is happily gnawing on the rubber bone Scott had given to her. With everyone so busy with food and caught up in jokes and stories, no one notices when the alpha’s strong fingers entwines with Stiles’ nimble ones. Stiles finally feels like he truly belongs, he is not just the sidekick, the tag along, he is loved, wanted, needed, he is pack and pack is family.

**Epilogue**

The stars are burning out, soon day will break, Stiles will hold on a little too tight, hoping he can make the night stay away just a little longer. The sun will rise, he’ll reluctantly let go, hating that he has to do so, even if it’s just for now. Wind rattles the blinds, a sliver of light seeping in with the crisp morning air, arms tighten, bodies press closer together, hearts beat as one. Stiles hides his face in the warmth of Derek’s chest, he smells of earth and sweat, of love and safety. He’ll see Derek later, he always does, but here in the early hours of the morning he has Derek all to himself. They have birds singing their morning songs and a rising sun to see and it’s theirs to enjoy alone.

Happiness swells in his chest when he wakes first thing in the morning, it’s in the dust moats floating in the sunbeams and it’s present on Derek’s sleeping face. The darkness has lifted, Derek, the pack, his father, Echo and Audrey and Kahlan Adler have fought away his monsters; they are nothing more than memories, a story to tell. It’s a love story, a story of bravery and weakness; it’s the story of their beginning. Derek has saved Stiles’ life countless times, but this time was different, it takes a certain kind of hero to save someone from themselves. Of course he isn’t naïve enough to think love has made his illness go away, it’s still there, trapped like a ferocious beast by drugs and therapy, eager and ready to be freed.

Derek is his anchor though, the one person who could reach through the darkness and drag him back to the surface. Maybe it’s because Derek is not just a man, not just an werewolf or an alpha, he’s Stiles mate, or rather Stiles is Derek’s mate, however you look at it, Derek is Stiles’ world, it just took losing his mind to realise that. Finally green eyes slowly open, a lazy grin spreads across Stiles’ face; he’ll never stop being this happy to see Derek’s face first thing in the morning.

“Morning” Derek smiles, kissing the tip of Stiles’ cold nose.

“Good morning” another kiss, slow and lazy like the breeze sneaking in through the open windows. Bodies press close together, limbs entwine and the day stands still just for this moment.  _Just for them_. “Did I ever tell you that I enjoy waking up to you?”

Warm breath sends chills up his spine; barely there kisses leave goose bumps in their wake. “Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it.”

Derek kisses him tenderly, treating him like he is the most precious being in the universe, to Derek, he is. Stiles is his future, one that is not filled with smoke and ash, blood and death. Stiles isn’t the boy who used to drive him crazy, he’s a young man with the promise of greatness written in his eyes. The darkness that had taken hold of Stiles might return someday, they all know that, but it won’t stop him from doing amazing things, Stiles is strength, courage and love, he is everything an alpha needs, he is everything Derek wants.

One day, in the far off future, Derek will marry this boy, he’ll love him when he is happy, cracking jokes and calling him sourwolf or The Hound of Baskervilles, he’ll love him when he’s down, when he’s lost in the darkness and talking to voices in his head and jumping at shadows. Derek has never felt like this before, not with Kate, not with girls he met in New York, every werewolf has a mate, Derek just never knew having one could be so frightful, so incredible. He never pictured Stiles, the hyperactive sheriff’s son, now with him here in his arms, he can’t imagine life without him.

“What are you thing about?” Stiles asked, nimble fingers smoothing out the creases in Derek’s brow.

“About  _our_  future” he answered, carding his strong fingers through Stiles unruly hair.

Stiles beamed, honey brown eyes filling with joy. “Say it again?”

Derek grinned, kissing Stiles cheeks, nose and forehead “ _Our_  future.”

“Our future” Stiles repeats, looking lost in thought, a lazy smile gracing his handsome face. “What do you see for our future?”

“I see” a kiss to his shoulder “the house rebuilt” a kiss to the other shoulder “the pack living there with us” a kiss to the centre of his chest “and everyone is happy and Scott has finally grown the rest of his brain.”

Laughter bubbled up his throat; Derek silenced it with a kiss before he could wake the sheriff who slept only a few rooms away. “I think I’m going to like the future” he whispered when Derek had finally released his mouth.  “I love you” Derek smiles down at him, eyes full of love.

“I love you too” a quick kiss and Derek is stepping out from under the covers, the bed suddenly feels empty and cold. “I’ll be back at one to pick you up for the movies, ok?”

Stiles hugs his comforter closer to his chest, the morning light has illuminated the room enough so that he can see Milo sound asleep in her bed. “Then can you drop me of at the park with Audrey and Echo so they can see Milo? They adore her.”

Derek glances over at the slumbering pup, he won’t admit, but he adores her too. “Yeah of course, do you want me to stay with you or are you ok by yourself?”

“Derek, Audrey and Echo does not equal me by myself, neither does Lydia and Allison or Scott and Isaac or anyone that isn’t you.” Stiles yawned loudly “Did that make sense? It’s too early to make sense.” With that his head promptly dropped down onto his pillow. “You are an overprotective softy wolf that I love very much, so I put up with you.”

“Of course you do” Derek knelt down next to the bed, one large hand wrapping around his wrist, thumb caressing the fading scar. “See you later Stiles.”

“I’ll be counting the seconds til you return” he half smiled, eyes drifting shut.

One last kiss and Derek was gone, Stiles sighed nosily, rolled over and began counting down the seconds, well, until he succumbed to sleep that is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Effy’s storyline from Skins. I did a lot of research for this, but if you are suffering any signs of depression then I recommend seeing a doctor and/or a counsellor (as someone who has depression, I find it very helpful to speak to someone about it, I thought counselling would be a load of rubbish but I’ve been going for the past year and have found it very helpful.) all medication mentioned in this story have been researched and from what I have learned they are used for the treatment of psychotic depression, but I am not a doctor so I only have what the internet has told me.  
> I’d like to include the music I listened to while writing this, in case anyone is interested: Florence & the Machine – Falling, Caleb Kane – Go Mad, Yoav ft Emily Browning – Where is My Mind, Darren Criss – Cough Syrup, Athlete – Wires, Sia – Breathe me, Plumb – Manic, Mumford and Sons – Thistle and Weeds, Florence & the Machine – Shake it Out (acoustic) , Fever Ray – Keep the Streets Empty for me, Lana Del Rey – Ride, Florence & the Machine – Heavy in Your Arms, Red – Take it All Away, Sia – Lullaby, Morgan Taylor Reid – Where Do I even Start.


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